Flashback
by mercywriter
Summary: Laura Hanson secretly takes her uncle's new horse, Shadow, out for a gallop and suddenly finds herself transported back to the Revolutionary War era.
1. Chapter 1

**Flash Back**

Chapter 1

I awoke with a chill and had to fight the urge to dig deeper under the covers. Stretching the kinks out of my back, I pushed aside the blanket and slid out of bed.

"Yow!" I sucked in a breath as my feet hit the freezing stone floor. I pulled open a drawer and drew out a pair of thick, gray socks. Without sitting, I hopped about on first one leg then the other as I pulled the socks onto my feet.

I made my bed then went to peruse my closet for the right outfit. Compulsory pair of jeans...blue and black plaid flannel shirt–blue always brought out the color of my eyes...and my shiny new riding boots.

For a full week, now, I had been pestering my Uncle Dave to let me ride Shadow.

"You aren't ready for him yet, Laura. That horse is a brute." Shaking his gray head, Uncle Dave had stomped away from me, heading back to the house from the stables where we'd just brushed down the object of my pleas.

"But Uncle–"

"Don't but Uncle me, young lady. I said no and that's final." He whirled about, opened his mouth as if to speak, then stopped. A ghost of a smile crept across his features. "Had I known what I was getting myself into when I told your daddy I'd take you in..." He gave a deep sigh. "I know you're an able rider. But–" His voice faltered. "I don't think I can handle any more loss in my life right now. So do an old man a favor and get that horse out of your head."

I stood there watching him walk away, the frustration just eating me up inside. Oh sure, I understood his motives. We'd both been through a lot. My mother died in a car accident when I was just three. It'd been a miracle I had not died as well, they said. It seemed the angels were watching over me, and the only part of the car not mashed in like a tin can was the area where my car seat was strapped to the back seat.

When I was sixteen, we found out my father was dying of cancer. In his last weeks, Daddy had taken me to the farm, and asked Uncle Dave to take me in.

Just a year before I went to live with him, Uncle Dave's wife had died. She was jogging down the road in front of the farm, and was hit by a car. Died instantly. The couple had never had any children, so I became the daughter Uncle Dave never had.

I understood Uncle Dave all right. But it seemed he didn't understand me. His paranoia over losing his only family kept him from seeing just how good a rider I had become. For eleven years, now, I had been living with him, and riding horses, and helping in the over all running of the farm. Surely he didn't still think of me as a child. And so, I had plotted out a way to ride the beast, and show Uncle Dave just how good a rider I was.

I gazed at my reflection in the mirror over the dresser. "Do you know what you're doing?" With a determined intake of breath, I grabbed a black scrunchy and twisted my auburn hair into a pony tail that hung half way down my back, from the nape of my neck. I yanked my faux-fur-lined leather jacket from a wooden knob on the wall, thrust my arms into it, and reached for my riding helmet. Before my hands closed around the helmet, a flutter in my stomach stayed my movement once more. _Did_ I know what I was doing?

"I'm a good rider!" I yelled at myself in a whisper, and jerked the door of my room open. I would have stomped into the hallway, but I remembered the time of day, and my mission. Taking the utmost of care not to step on any of the more squeaky floor boards, I made my way to the kitchen. I purloined an apple and a granola bar, and stuffed them into my pocket. Then with another deep, cleansing breath, I stepped out into the cold morning.

My boots crunched on the icy sheet of frozen dew. A glance at the sky informed me we just might get a little snow. As the wind picked up, I shivered and wrapped my arms about me as if that could warm me.

The barn door groaned on its hinges as I pulled it open. A horse whinnied in protest.

"Sorry for disturbing your sleep, you old beast." I approached Shadow's stall and reached for the apple in my pocket. "Do you want this, old boy?" I held out the fruit on the palm of my hand. The horse sniffed at the apple, then opened his mouth and gently took it from me.

The crunch of horse teeth on apple seemed to reverberate throughout the whole stable. As Shadow busied himself with his apple, I led him out of the stall and saddled him up.

"There, boy. Let's go for a little ride? You're not such a beast, are you?" I pet the soft nose, and moved my hand down the line of his jaw to his ebony neck. "You are the most beautiful creature I've ever seen." I smiled up at the animal, as if he could read my facial expression. Then, feeling stupid but glad no one but the horse himself had even seen me, I swung up into the saddle.

The flutter in my stomach returned. Only this time it was much stronger. Shadow jerked his head up and let out a loud whinny. He sensed my nervousness, and that was not a good sign. Maybe Uncle Dave was right after all. But I didn't have the option of turning back. Not now. I gave Shadow a light kick in the sides, and he was off. I held the reigns tight, not giving him much lee way. He would know I was in control.

As we rode out into the yard, the icy air slapped me in the face. I frowned. It seemed as if the temperature had dropped another few degrees. Oddly cold for this part of South Carolina, even in the middle of winter. The wind had picked up as well. We were in for a storm of some sort, but I didn't think snow would be a part of it anymore. Too cold.

I was about to turn around and take Shadow back to his stall when the wind slammed a shutter from a window at the top of the house. The bang sounded almost like a gun shot. Shadow apparently thought so, too. He started, and took off into a canter.

"Ok, you big brute. Run it out, but remember I'm still in charge!" A gust of wind whipped the words back into my face. I blinked, but for a few seconds I could not open my eyes. Shadow and I raced forward into what felt like a cloud. Mist crowded about me, suffocating me, like going into a steam sauna, only this wasn't hot. I urged Shadow faster, afraid I might pass out. Then just as suddenly as the peculiar feelings had started, they stopped. I sucked in a breath, blinked again, and glanced over my shoulder. The farm house and stable looked to be much further away than I thought we'd come. I gave a light laugh."You're really fast, Shadow!" I faced forward again, about to pat the horse's neck. But yet another obstacle robbed me of breath.

A rustic wooden fence, much like the kind I'd seen at Revolutionary War historical sites, stood before us. I tightened my grip on the reigns, but we were moving too fast to stop, or even veer off to the side. _This is the end. _I thought. _Poor Uncle Dave. Why didn't I listen?_


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

With these thoughts in my head, I went through all the stages of grief in a split second. I'm going to die. I don't want to die! Oh well, I guess there's not much I can do about it now. I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for the fatal impact.

As a little girl, I used to dream of flying. I'd just lift off the ground and hang, suspended in the air, until I felt like moving on. once again, I had that sensation...of hanging in mid air. I peeleda singleeye open. Shadow leaped through the air in one fluid movement, and we landed with a thud of hooves on a–_dirt_ road?

How–but I had no time to ponder what had happened to the paved road that used to run in front of the property. A low lying branch from a huge oak was about to lift me out of the saddle. I think I screamed, but I can't be sure. I ducked, hugging my body to Shadow's neck. In the process, I lost my hold on the reigns. With a burst of pent up energy, Shadow picked up more speed.

"What are you doing, you crazy horse!" I managed to grab the reigns, but by this time Shadow knew he was in control. And that's when I noticed I wasn't alone. Two men on horseback rode on either side of me.

"Take my hand, lad," the man to my right yelled.

"How? I can't. I'll fall off." I glanced at him but a second, then returned my petrified gaze to the road ahead of me.

The man steered his horse closer. Our legs were almost touching. He leaned to the side, then I felt a strong arm go about my waist. "Come on, boy. Let your horse go. I've got you."

For the second time, I squeezed my eyes shut, expecting the worse, and grabbed frantically at the neck of my rescuer. What came next all happened so quickly, I can't recount the details. I just know that when I finally opened my eyes again, I sat behind a stranger on a now still horse, my arms about the man's waist, holding on for dear life.

"Are you all right?" I heard another voice, speaking from below me. In reality, it was only then I truly opened my eyes, and I saw red. Bright scarlet, just like the coats of–I shook my head. Nah. Couldn't be.

"I think he's stunned." Therider who'd been on my left came trotting back toward us, leading that rebel, Shadow.

"We're stopped now," said the man I still held in a death grip. "You may loosen your hold on me."

"I'm sorry," I mumbled, and felt the heat in my face take over my entire body. How embarrassing!

"Come on down from there." Another red-coated man reached up toward me. I allowed him to lift me down, then stumbled as my feet made contact with the ground.

My rescuer dismounted and stepped in front of me. He placed his hands on my shoulders.

"Steady now. That was quite a scare, wasn't it?" He gave what I suppose was meant to be a smile. It spread the corners of his lips just a bit, but never reached his eyes. And what eyes. Ice blue. I could feel my bottom jaw begin to fall open. All thoughts and the words I'd been about to utter–Thank you–disappeared from my mind. 'Iceman' arched an eyebrow, amusement briefly putting some light into those two shards of blue crystal.

"I-I'm sorry. Th-thank you. I might have di–"

"Never mind." He lifted a gloved hand. "You didn't." His eyes narrowed and he cocked his head to the side, studying me. "Very odd attire. Where are you from?"

"From that farm–" I turned to point back toward Uncle Dave's farm, but I could only see trees, and a long stretch of dirt road. "Well, goodness. We must have run a long way."

A rumble of whispers drew my attention to the fact that there was a whole group of men, all mounted, and all wearing the same red coats with green facings. I turned back to the one before me, obviously their leader.

"Something is wrong." I frowned, realizing that although the temperature was still cold, it now felt like a normal South Carolina winter. What had happened to the gray skies? The icy dew? The violent wind?

"Where were you going at such a break-neck speed?" Iceman took a step closer, all amusement and smiles wiped from his face. I swallowed hard.

"I-I was just taking Shadow for a run. My Uncle Dave wouldn't let me ride him. Said he was too much horse for me to handle." I looked down, unable to stand the man's hard stare. Nervousness made me give a sheepish grin and shrug. "I guess Uncle Dave was right, huh?" I hoped when I looked back up that he would have softened his expression.

"Where did you get such a fine horse?" he snapped. So much for softened expressions.

"He belongs to my uncle. At the farm just back there." I pointed behind me.

"Looked to me like he was trying to escape." The man who still held Shadow by the reigns spoke to the leader, then turned his gaze to me. "Did you steal that horse?"

"No! Of course not. Look, I know, I shouldn't have taken him out. Uncle Dave said he was too much and I didn't listen. But I'm a good rider and I just wanted to prove that I can–"

"Enough!" Iceman barked. I gulped and shut my mouth. He stared at me for a moment that felt like an eternity. A mixture of emotions flickered in his eyes. Curiosity, confusion, indecision, determination. "You will mount your horse, and you will come with us. If you try to leave us, I will shoot you." He stepped back a pace, pulled out a pistol from somewhere at his side and pointed it at my head. "Understood?"

"Yes. Of course. No way not to understand." I offered him a shaky smile and nodded.

He gave me a quick up and down scan as he replaced his pistol in his side, frowned, then turned and mounted his horse.

With legs that felt like rubber, I swung up onto Shadow. Who were these men, and why were they dressed like British soldiers from the Revolutionary War? A band of re-enactors, maybe? They certainly took their re-enacting seriously. But this thought soothed my mind, and helped put me at ease. We'd get back to their camp, and I'd find a bunch of 21st century people milling about with these who were dressed in 18th century clothing. I even decided to play along for awhile.

As we trotted along down the road, I inched my way closer to the intriguing man who had saved me from certain death. Now that I had myself convinced he was just a very good actor, my original fear melted away.

"So where are you from?" I asked, offering my friendliest smile.

He glanced at me, an almost startled expression on his face. "From where do you think?"

"By your accent, I'd say you're British. But those accents are so easy to fake nowadays." He didn't speak a word, so I went on. "Are you really from England?"

He snorted. "And where else would I be from? Certainly you don't think I was born in these backwoods colonies."

"How cool is that! I've never met a real Englishman before." I laughed to punctuate my words.

"You Americans are a funny lot."

"Why's that?"

He paused, looking me full in the face, and squinted. "You have no idea who I am, have you?"

"I don't remember you telling me your name." His eyes slanted, and it seemed his gaze pierced right into the depths of my soul. Sobering, I shook my head. "No, sorry. Should I know you?"

My admission seemed to frustrate him. His jaw clenched.

"I don't usually have to tell anyone my name. I take it you're not from around here."

"Not originally, but I've been living here with my Uncle Dave for eleven years."

The only answer I got was a snarled humph as he kicked his horse into a canter.

We must have ridden about an hour when we finally reached their camp. Iceman shouted a few orders, then nodded to one of his men, and jerked his head at me. He rode off toward a white tent, dismounted, and tethered his horse beside the tent.

"Come, you," said my escort. "Get down from that horse, and pray the colonel doesn't decide to hang you for a horse thief."

"Horse thief!" I slid to the ground and quickly found the reigns yanked from my hands. "I've already told you, I didn't steal him. He belongs to–"

"Your Uncle Dave, from the farm just down the road." The soldier looked at me through slanted eyes. "See, the problem is, there is–er–was a small farm in the vicinitywhere you mentioned, but the owner is not named Dave."

I laughed and sighed with relief. "Oh, well, then you must have the wrong farm in mind."

He didn't return my laugh, but grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the tent where the colonel had just gone. "Colonel Tavington wants to ask you a few questions."

"C-Colonel Tavington?"

"Oh, so now you know him, eh?" The soldier snickered.

"I have heard the name." And for some reason, it struck fear to the very core of my heart. I just couldn't quite pinpoint why.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

If my legs felt like rubber before, now they felt like the raw sap from the rubber tree that made the rubber. As I stood in front of the colonel, feeling as naked as a newborn even though I was fully covered, I thought I might collapse. Why didn't he say anything? He just sat there behind a sort of desk, looking at me through half closed eyes. An intimidation tactic, no doubt, and it was working...very well.

"Sir?" I ventured a question. "May I at least know why I'm being detained here? I've done nothing wrong."

"I'll be the one to decide that," he snapped and then continued to stare at me, his gaze roaming quizzically up and down my figure. When he finally spoke again, I jumped. "What's your name?"

"L-L-Laura. Laura Hanson."

A small smile spread across his face and he let out a barely audible sigh. Relief? "So I'm not losing my mind after all." He chuckled, and stood, coming toward me with slow, deliberate steps. "I am still a little confused, Miss Hanson, about your attire. We took you for a young boy."

I glanced down at my jeans and flannel shirt. "Oh, right. See, women where I come from wear these kinds of clothes all the time." I reminded myself that I was just in a camp of re-enactors...crazy re-enactors...but somehow I didn't feel any better. The key word was crazy. This man, though devilishly handsome, was nothing short of crazy.

"Where exactly are you from?" He pulled his hands behind his back and glared down at me, standing so close I could feel the heat of his breath on my face.

"You wouldn't believe me anyway." I shrugged, and looked to the ground.

"Try me." He spoke in a voice so soft I had to look up. Yet the softness was deceptive, for there was no such gentleness in his expression.

"Very well. I come from a different time period. From the future. Three centuries future, to be exact, although we are still at the beginning of the 2000s, so it hasn't been exactly three hundred years yet. But the 1700s, 1800s, and even the 1900s have all passed." I realized I was babbling, and snapped my mouth shut.

The colonel stepped back, both eyebrows arched, a sardonic grin spreading across his face. "Three centuries future?"

I offered him a shaky smile and looked back down. "I said you wouldn't believe me."

"So...women in the future will dress like men. How about this war? Who wins?"

"Uh-you won't like my answer, and at this point in the game, you probably won't believe that, either."

He snorted out a laugh. "You don't expect me to believe you disorganized, lazy, ungrateful bunch of colonials are going to win. It is easier for me to believe you have traveled back in time."

An involuntary laugh–likely because of my nervousness–bubbled out of my mouth. "You know, you should go to Hollywood. Whoever you are, you're a very good actor. _I_ almost believe you're an 18th century British soldier."

"Officer. Green Dragoons. And why wouldn't you believe that I am such, since that is what I am?"

I suddenly became tired of the game. This was just too freaky. I wanted rather to sit over a cup of coffee and have a good laugh, together with this handsome man, about all that had happened so far. "All right, you're really good, but this has gone far enough. I'd really like to go find some normal people, now. You know, from the current year?"

With a shake of my head and one last lingering gaze at the "colonel", I turned to exit the tent.

A vice-like hand clamped down on my arm, whirling me back around to face him.

"Do you have any idea how much trouble you are in, Miss Hanson? Don't ever walk away from me unless I give you permission to do so." He drew his lips into a tight, thin line. As he breathed through his nose, I had the impression of a mad bull ready to charge. At least _he_ was wearing the red, not me.

"Please, Colonel, or whatever your name is. It's been fun, but I'd really like to get back to the farm. Uncle Dave is probably up by now, and worried about me."

"Are you a spy, Miss Hanson? Or just a common horse thief?" He grabbed my other arm, squeezing with such force that involuntary tears sprung to my eyes.

"Ow! Now you're hurting me." I tried to pull away, but his fingers just tightened further.

"I'll do more than that, my dear. If you have lived in this area for eleven years, then you know who I am. But in case you've forgotten--maybe your little close encounter with death erased important facts from your mind–allow me to refresh your memory. You Americans call me The Butcher." He paused, I suppose to let that information sink in. "And do you know why I am called that?"

"Uh...when you're not re-enacting, you work in a meat market?"

"Do you think this is some sort of joke?" His nose was almost touching mine. The angry flash in his eyes was no act.

I bit back the words, _yes, I do think it's a joke, but not a very good one_, and shook my head.

"No, sir. I'm sorry." Bits and pieces of oddities ran through my mind. The wierd weather, the quick changes in temperature, the wind, and that suffocating cloud. The paved road turned into dirt. For that matter, that old time fence that I knew Uncle Dave had never put up around his house. Could it be–? But no. It wasn't possible. I must have fallen off of Shadow and hit my head. Had I died and gone—? Nah. This wasn't bad enough to be--and certainly not pleasant. And since I didn't believe in that in between place...There were several options. I had traveled back in time. Unlikely. I had fallen and hit my head, and was lying somewhere unconscious, and having this very odd experience but only in my head. Possible. I was still in bed, and this was one really wacked out dream. It all felt too real to be a dream. The re-enactor theory I had already begun to discard.

"Miss Hanson, are you even listening to me?" The colonel's voice pulled me back to my current predicament.

"I'm sorry. I didn't hear you. I'm trying to figure this out." My head began to throb. So that was it. I _had_ fallen off Shadow, hit my head, and now I was about to wake up. The tent began to spin. The ground beneath my feet pitched as if I stood on the deck of a clipper ship in the middle of a storm. I blinked, trying to clear my vision, but the colonel became one big red and green blur. "Uncle Dave, I'm sorry." I gasped. "I'll try to come out of this."


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks so much, y'all, for reading and reviewing. It was a real boost. :-) Here's the next chapter. It's short, but I'm working on chapter 5 and will post it as soon as it's done. Am I supposed to put all those disclaimers here? I don't own Patriot or any of the characters from it, but Laura Hanson and Shadow are my creations. :-)

Chapter 4

It was dark when I opened my eyes. I had to blink a few times to focus. With a groan, I lifted my hand to my head.

"Uncle Dave?" My throat was so dry my voice came out in a rough whisper.

A shape that looked nothing like my uncle came toward me. "Ah...so you've decided to come back to the land of the living, have you?"

I blinked a few more times and focused on the speaker. He looked different, wearing a long white shirt without the red and green coat, and his hair hanging free about his shoulders. But I would recognize that cold stare anywhere.

"Bummer." I ran my hands over my eyes and opened them again, still hoping to waken and no longer see this frightening person bending over me. "I'm still here."

"And where else would you be?"

"Where exactly am I?"

"For now, you are lying on my cot in my tent. I had the doctor take a look at you when you passed out."

"How kind of you," I mumbled, mostly to myself.

"Kind has nothing to do with it." He smiled, and I thought there was a cruel satisfaction in the gesture. "I simply want you perfectly healthy so you don't miss out on any of the details of your execution."

"Execution? Whatever for?" I sat up, closing my eyes against the spinning. Now was no time to pass out. I was no wimp. Something was dreadfully wrong with me. I'd never fainted before, and I certainly intended never to do so again.

"Treason, spying, horse theft." He walked casually away from the cot, then whirled around to face me again. "Any other crime you'd like to add to the list?"

"I'm not a horse thief. That horse belongs to my uncle, and thus to me."

"So you keep saying. But I had a man ride back there and question the people from several farms. None of them know you, have never heard of your name, and don't know anyone named Dave who has a niece living with him." He paused. "So I can only assume you're lying to me." With a smile I dubbed the Judas smile, he came toward me, then sat on the side of the cot. I moved back, pulling my knees up to my chest. "If you are innocent of these crimes, then you have nothing to fear." He reached out and brushed a lock of my hair from in front of my eyes. "Just tell me the whole truth and maybe we can get you out of this mess."

I sucked in a deep breath and rubbed my face with my hands. "I've told you the truth, but you won't believe me."

"What were you running from? You are dressed like a man, and riding a horse at a deadly speed. You can trust me."

I humphed and glared at him, rubbing my arms which I suspected were bruised from the way he'd grabbed me earlier. "How long have I been lying here?"

"A few hours." He smiled again, speaking softly. "Tell me, Miss Hanson. Who or what were you running from? Because even horse theft can be forgiven if the circumstances warrant it."

"Why are you so stinking sure I stole that horse? Do I have the words, HORSE THIEF written on my forehead or something? Gees!" I crossed my arms in front of my chest, wishing for all I was worth to be able to get up and bolt from there. But his warning, to not walk away from him without permission surely applied to running away as well.

"My dear Miss Hanson, you don't strike me as the daughter of a rich plantation owner." He reached out and grabbed my hand, turning it palm side up. "Although you're hands are not full of callouses like those of a slave, these are not the hands of a pampered young woman."

"Of course not. Uncle Dave's farm does quite well, but we all do our fair share of work to keep things running smoothly." After a moment's pause, I realized the colonel still held my hand. Suddenly self-conscious, I snatched it back and managed to glare up at him. He arched both eyebrows, gazing at me with a mixture of curiosity and amusement.

"You still have not answered me. I'm not usually a very patient man, but I am trying to be right now. So tell me why you st–tell me your story, up until the point where you leaped over that fence–quite a feat, I might add–and we were so unceremoniously introduced."

I had always enjoyed making up stories, so now I figured I'd have to put my fiction mind to work.

"Why exactly do you want to know so much about me? You've obviously made up your mind to think the worse of me." I was stalling, trying hard to think up something convincing. But my mind was drawing a blank.

He sighed and pushed himself to his feet. "I've never hanged a woman before." With a shrug, he turned and ambled back to his desk.

I sat in place for a few seconds more, thinking. Finally the perfect story came to me. But would he believe it?


	5. Chapter 5

Thanks, once again, for reading and reviewing. ) I hope you'll keep with me! Since that last chapter was so short, I've hurried and finished chapter 5. So here goes.

Chapter 5

Colonel Tavington poked his head out of the tent and yelled a couple of names. "Borden! Wilkins!"

I recognized the two men who huffed into the tent. The one named Borden was the one who'd helped in the rescue, and Wilkins had helped me down from Colonel Tavington's horse.

"Captains, we have a problem," the colonel began, then glanced over his shoulder in my direction.

The two captains also looked at me.

Colonel Tavington sat at his desk and began to write. "She's claiming the same story."

"But sir–"

"Wilkins, did I finish speaking?" The colonel growled then turned to his other captain. "It might be time for a good hanging. And a woman, no less." He chuckled and bent over his paper once again.

Thecaptains exchanged glances. Wilkins opened his mouth to speak, but Borden shook his head.

"Permission to speak, sir," Wilkins said. Borden rolled his eyes, but remained quiet.

Colonel Tavington slowly lifted his head, and I could just imagine the glare.

"What is it, Captain?"

Wilkins looked down and kicked at the ground with the tip of his boot. "What should we do with the horse? No one in the area has claimed a stolen animal."

"Yes, a fortunate turn of events, don't you think?" The colonel stood and handed a piece of paper to Borden. "I want you to go into town and find those items."

Borden glanced over the paper then looked up once again, a confused scowl on his face. "But how are we-where will we find these at this hour?"

"I don't really care how or where. Just be sure you come back with them before sunrise."

"Yes sir," the captains mumbled together and rushed out of the tent.

Colonel Tavington turned his full attention on me once again. "So, Miss Hanson. Are you really going to insist on this silly story about an Uncle Dave, who doesn't exist, and this traveling back in time bit?" He chuckled, lifting one side of his mouth.

"Uncle Dave does exist. But that's neither here nor there, is it?" I stood and walked right up to him. What did I have to lose anyway? If he believed me, maybe I'd be set free. If not, I was a dead woman no matter how I behaved around him.

"Actually, it is. If he did exist and you could prove it, and prove the horse belongs to him, then we wouldn't have to be setting up a gallows for you." He shook his head, and took a step closer. "A pity, really." His voice dropped to just above a whisper. "If only you'd trust me with the truth..."

"All right. Have it your way." I stepped back, uncomfortable with his closeness, and with the fact I was going to have to lie. I'd never been very good at it, and he'd probably see right through me. I turned my back to him, hoping maybe if I didn't look into his face and those eyes...maybe I'd have a chance.

"Well?" He asked.

"My life has been a mess from the beginning. When I was three, my mother died when we had an accident with our car –Uh, c-carriage. Actually, it was more like a wagon than a carriage." A station wagon, to be exact, but he didn't need to know that. "I survived, she didn't." I shrugged and turned, venturing a glance in his direction. But there was no reading that stone face of his. "I don't really remember any of that. I have some vague memories of my mother singing to me, but that's it. My father died when I was sixteen. Ca–" I caught myself. Did they even know about cancer in the 1770s? Maybe they did, but I had no idea. I wracked my brain for another fatal disease, one the colonel would be sure to have heard of. "C-"

"Consumption?" he offered.

"Consumption! That's it." I smiled as I shook my head, then remembered I was telling him a story of truth mixed with fiction that would hopefully gain his sympathy. Putting on my most pitiful face, I went on. "Before Daddy died, he took me to live with my childless, widower Uncle Dave."

Although I could still read no sympathy in the colonel's face, at least that stone cold expression had begun to melt. He actually looked interested in my story. Or maybe I just wanted him to be. I took in a few breaths through my nose in a sort of calming gesture. Now came the tricky part. For the rest of it was pure fiction.

"Go on," he said. It wasn't a prod, but an order.

"Yes sir. Um, well, Uncle Dave took me in and...what more do you really want to know?"

"If you are attempting to stall, it won't work. You know what I want to hear from you. I've already mentioned, I'm not usually a very patient man. And right now I am very close to losing what patience is left within me."

"Right." I nodded and once again tried to play on his sympathies with facial expressions. If only I had a mirror, to see how good–or stupid I looked. "Well, it was early morning. No one was up yet, but me. I went out to the stable to look at Shadow and then–" I remembered the banging shutter. The excitement of story-telling welled within me. "And then I heard a noise, much like that of a gunshot. I hid with Shadow for a few seconds, then when I got my wits about me, I looked out through a crack in the barn wall. I saw a band of men riding up to the house. It was still dusk, so I couldn't see them very well. I didn't wait. I ran and saddled Shadow in case I needed to run. Then I went back–"

"Were these men soldiers?"

"Maybe. I'm not sure. Like I said, I couldn't see them very well in the limited light." My hopes soared. It seemed he believed me. "They weren't your men, if that's what you want to know. I think I would have been able to see those scarlet coats y'all wear even with my eyes closed."

His eyebrows shot up. "Y'all?"

I had to cover my mouth with my hand for a second in order to not giggle. The Southernism sounded very funny coming from his oh-so-proper English mouth. "Hm...yes. It's Southern–never mind. It means you all, which I know isn't really correct either, but it's how we talk where I come from. You."

He waved the air a little impatiently. "So you're sure the men weren't Dragoons or other British soldiers."

"Absolutely." I nodded fervently. "I wouldn't have been so afraid had I seen British soldiers riding up to the house."

"Is that so?" He gave a half grin which told me I had clearly gone too far.

"All right, so maybe I would have been just as afraid. But these weren't British. They knocked on the door, then I saw Uncle Dave answer. They pushed him aside and rushed into the house. He managed to get away and ran to the stable. When he got inside and saw me, with Shadow all saddled, he told me to run. 'Those men are up to no good,' he said."

"So you left your uncle behind to the mercy of those men?" The colonel gave a disappointed shake of his head.

"N-no. It wasn't exactly like that." I frowned. I'd managed to think up the part of the band of men earlier, but I didn't expect this reaction from the colonel. "I helped him to saddle another horse. He grabbed his ax and was about to chop an exit out the back, when the door squeaked open." I sniffed, stalling again to think up what came next.

"What happened to your uncle, Miss Hanson? Was he killed?"

It was my turn to be surprised. I managed to look back at him, and all the sympathy I'd been hoping for pooled in his eyes. So the man did have a heart!

"I-I don't really know." I looked down again, putting as much emotion into my voice as possible. As much as I hated lying, this once, my life depended on it. But a sudden realization pumped some real emotion into my act. I truly didn't know what had happened to Uncle Dave. I still wasn't sure of what had happened to me. Was Uncle Dave all right? Was I? Had I shown up missing? My head began to want to spin again with all the thoughts. I shook my head to clear it.

"So you were trying to escape a band of men who likely killed your uncle and would have done the same or maybe worse to you."

I nodded. "I just hope Uncle Dave is all right. Maybe he's all right?"

"Why didn't you just tell me this from the beginning?" The colonel spoke softly and came toward me. "If you'd said something when we first came upon you, we might have been able to catch these ruffians and even save your uncle."

"I-I don't know." Tears that weren't forced sprung to my eyes. Now that it seemed I didn't have to worry about my own life, all I could think of was my uncle. How would he survive another loss?

"There, now. Go ahead and cry if it makes you feel better." Hesitantly, he reached out and pulled me to him. "There's not much can be done, now. But you're safe with us."

I had no intention of crying further. Not in the arms of this man. He didn't seem the type to tolerate weakness, even in the form of sadness. He would rather applaud bravery in the face of tragedy than a simpering, foolish woman. Reluctantly, I pushed away from him.

"Thank you for your comfort, Colonel, but it's not necessary. Uncle Dave is a good fighter. He probably made out all right."

"We can hope." The colonel smiled and then looked about. "You need to get a good night's sleep, and I have work to do." He pointed at the cot. "You can sleep there."

"I can't do that. You need your rest, too."

"I'm not asking you, Miss Hanson. I'm ordering you."

"And I'm not one of your dragoons that you can order me around." I placed my hand on my hip and glared at him.

"You really aren't afraid of me, are you?" He smiled, and for once it looked sincere.

"You've not given me any real reason to fear you." Another lie, of course, for the man terrified me. But I couldn't let him see that.

"Haven't I?"

"You have a really bad habit of second guessing everyone and what they say."

He laughed. "Actually, it's refreshing to have someone not cowering at my feet, begging for mercy." Without further ado, he turned around and bounded outside.

I don't know how long I paced the length of the tent. Soon exhaustion overtook me and I had no choice but to lie down. I figured I'd wake up when the colonel came back, then I could give him his cot. I fell asleep sniffing in the fragrance of him as I lay my head where he usually did. This was not a good sign. Feelings like this, for a man like that, could only lead to trouble.

I blinked as bright sunlight poured into the tent.

"Good morning, Miss Hanson. I take it you slept well?" The tent flap fell back into place, giving me a reprieve from the glare of the sun. I sat up and stretched then fixed my gaze on the colonel.

"Good morning." I yawned.

"I have a few things for you." He threw a large bag at me. "You'll look a lot more presentable in those."

I opened the bag and pulled out several pieces of women's clothing. Eighteenth century women's clothing. I swallowed hard. How was I ever to put these on? I didn't know what went where. Oh, and those awful bone things. A corset or some type. What'd they call them at this time period? Stays?

I looked back up at Colonel Tavington. "You really want me to put these on?"

"Of course. There's no reason for you to be wearing those strange looking men's clothes. It's not good for the troops to see you like that, anyway. A woman should dress as a woman, no matter where she comes from." He smirked, then turned on his heel and walked back outside.

With a deep sigh, I took out the clothes and laid them on the cot. Somehow I'd have to figure this out. It couldn't be that hard. I'd seen pictures.

Once I'd put on the under clothing, I held up the dress. It was actually quite pretty. Blue, I noticed, with stripes of white sporting little blue flowers. Now, if only I could get those stays on properly...it might even look nice on me.

As I fought with the laces on the stays, the tent flap opened and in walked the colonel. Maybe I should have felt embarrassed at being seen in my underclothes, but for me, a 21st century woman, I already had on more layers than I was used to.

"Need a little help with that?" The colonel's hands closed over mine, taking the laces from my fingers.

"Thank you. I'm not very good with that."

He didn't say anything, but pulled the laces tight. I sucked in a breath at just how tight.

"There you go." He turned me to face him, then placed his hands on my shoulders and smiled. "Hurry and finish dressing, my dear. I have something I wish to show you."

"Y-yes, of course." I smiled in return, then reached for the dress. It was the easiest part of the whole outfit to put on. In only I had a mirror!

I picked up a silver comb that was also in the bag. My unruly hair was probably quite a sight. With as much care as possible, I pulled the comb through my hair until no tangles were left, all the while very much aware of the colonel sitting at his table. I could see, out of the corner of my eye, that he watched me. What would happen next? What did he want to show me?

I rolled my hair back off my face in an attempt at a hairdo I'd seen on a young re-enactor lady once, and wound the scrunchy around the tail that remained at the back of my head.

"Ready?" The colonel stood and held out his hand. "Now you look like a woman. A very beautiful woman, I might add." He gave the briefest bow, and that Judas smile, then held the tent open for me to pass.

The camp was a flurry of activity. But as I stepped outside, I realized the men were all headed in one direction.

"Come right this way, Miss Hanson." Colonel Tavington took me by the arm and pulled me toward the growing group of men. "Your gallows awaits."

"Gallows? But Colonel–"

"What kind of a fool do you take me for? That sob story about a band of colonials killing your uncle–" He shook his head and snorted. "It would have been easier to believe that first ridiculous narrative."


	6. Chapter 6

Thanks so much, y'all. You're really helping me out with this. I started to write back to each of you, but I had a minor surgery done on Wednesday and I think the pain meds have affected my brain. So now I can't remember exactly who I wrote back to. If you didn't hear from me, I do apologize. I'll try to respond from now on. But your enthusiastic reviews have even helped in my recovery. :-)

Right...all that disclaimer stuff...I don't own Patriot or anyone from Patriot, I'm not being paid for writing this, I'm just having fun...putting off my regular writing for awhile.

Chapter 6

A million thoughts buzzed through my mind. The Butcher. I began to understand the reason for his nick name. What had happened to innocent until proven guilty? Apparently hadn't been established yet. I groaned inwardly, trying to think of a way out. My only option was to try to break away and run for it. An option I knew would never work. Before I'd gotten two feet from him, he'd have his pistol in hand and would likely shoot me. Probably in the leg so he could still have the pleasure of hanging me. The beast!

As he continued to drag me toward the gallows–really just a rope thrown over a thick branch of a tree at the edge of the woods–I grew more and more angry. In the past, my anger usually worked for me, helping me to do or say things I never would when I was calm. But now, not even anger could help me. I glanced over at the colonel, all spiffed up in his red and green coat, and neat hair pulled back into that ponytail thingy. I wanted to rip his hair out and then use it to wipe the smug grin off his face. Ooh...if only I could...

"What is it, Miss Hanson? You look very much as if you'd like to scratch my eyes out."

"I was actually thinking of your hair, but the eyes would work, too."

He chuckled and tightened his grip on my arm. Just one more little reminder of his power over me.

As we approached the center of the circle of men, Captain Borden led Shadow toward the tree. So they were going to hang me using my own horse?

Colonel Tavington yanked my hands behind my back and tied a rope around my wrists.

"Do you wish to tell me anything, Miss Hanson? I think I do believe you when you say the horse is yours. Except for those few moments when you lost hold of the reigns, you handled him expertly. You've obviously been well trained in riding. So that leads me to only one conclusion. You are a spy for the rebels, and there is no forgiveness for that kind of treason."

I glared up at him, still wishing I could yank out his hair. "You know, Nathan Hale said it best. 'I regret that I have but one life to give for my country!' Or something like that."

"Nathan who?" The colonel feigned innocence.

"Go ahead and hang me, you brute. At least I know in the afterlife I'll never be running in to you." Oh yes. My anger gave me courage. But it had done me no good.

I closed my eyes as the noose was pulled over my head and tightened around my neck. So this was the end for me. I kept my eyes closed, not willing to give the monster even a glimpse into my head and my thoughts. He would not get any begging from me, or see any fear in my face to feed his cruel ego.

As I faced death once again, a strange peace washed over me. I didn't want to die, and certainly not like this. But at least I had my honor intact. In my heart, if not in the mind of the man about to kill me. If only I could come back as a ghost and haunt the evil colonel!

It seemed forever before I was hoisted up onto Shadow's back. A scene from Pirates of the Carribean ran through my mind, where Jack Sparrow was about to be hanged...drums rumbling ominously in the background. Too bad there was no Will Turner to save me. For some odd reason, that thought struck me funny. I snickered.

"Do you still think this is one big joke, Miss Hanson?" Colonel Tavington didn't sound very happy.

I couldn't resist. I had to open my eyes and get one last glance at him, and hopefully see the frustration in his eyes that he hadn't managed to break me. Well, at least not emotionally. Looking him in the face was no longer frightening, not after staring death itself head on. My lips trembled a smile as my eyes met his and I saw that victory was mine.

"Have a good war, Colonel, and I hope some lazy, undisciplined rebel, or whatever you called us, runs you through. But only after you've seen the United States of America become completely free of your kind of tyranny."

His eyes narrowed into two slits. He charged forward and lifted his hand to hit Shadow's flanks. But at that very moment, a rumble of horses hooves drew the attention of everyone, including my own and the colonel's.

A stiff, pale-faced man rode up with a small group of other mounted soldiers.

"What is the meaning of this, Colonel?" The pale-faced man slid from his horse and marched up to Tavington.

"General O'Hara, sir. Why are you here?" Tavington actually seemed a little nervous. The dandy little man was obviously his superior.

"It was reported that you were hanging a woman, and General Cornwallis sent me to investigate." General O'Hara looked up at me, then back to the colonel again. "I actually argued with him, saying that although you have been known to do outrageous things in the name of loyalty to your king and country, I seriously doubted even you would stoop this low."

I fought hard to keep from laughing. Poetic justice, that I would actually see the brute being thusly humiliated. Maybe I'd get out of this mess yet.

"Thank you, sir. I–" Colonel Tavington began.

"But now you've made a fool out of me, with the Lord General himself, and I don't take kindly to that." O'Hara turned to Wilkins and Borden and snapped his fingers. "Get that woman down from there this instant. If she is truly a spy, it is up to the Lord General to determine that and to carry out punishment."

For several more minutes, the general blasted at Tavington. The look of helpless frustration on the colonel's face almost made me feel sorry for him. Almost. Captain Wilkins helped me down, then quickly sliced through the rope binding my wrists.

"I'm sorry for the fright you must have just had," Captain Wilkins whispered in my ear. "He wasn't really going to carry through with it."

"Please, Captain." I humphed. "You don't believe that, do you? Because I certainly don't."

Wilkins shrugged, then lifted the noose offmy head. "I'd just be a little more careful around him."

"Thank you for the warning."

General O'Hara came toward me, then held out his hand. "I must beg your forgiveness, Miss–?"

"Hanson." I took his outstretched hand and found mine lifted and pressed briefly to his lips. A giggle tried to force its way from my mouth as I turned my gaze to look at Tavington. He glowered, again reminding me of a mad bull, but this time the look wasn't aimed at me.

"Miss Hanson," O'Hara went on. "I find it difficult to believeyou are a spy for the Continentals. However, since the accusation has been issued, please understand that we must at least investigate."

"I understand, General. And thank you for coming to my rescue." I smiled sweetly and would have batted my eye lashes if I didn't think the motion would be lost on the general.

He gave a curt nod and released my hand. "Thank you for your understanding." He turned back to Colonel Tavington. "You will take the young lady back to the fort to be interviewed by General Cornwallis and myself. And see that she arrives safely."

"Yes, sir," Tavington said with forced meekness.

"If even one hair of her head is harmed–"

"Understood, General." Impatience replaced the meekness in Tavington's voice.

With one last nod, O'Hara mounted his horse, and left. The other dragoons, with the exception of Wilkins and Borden, slunk away to go about their business. I looked at the colonel out of the corner of my eye, not daring to stare at him head on. Now that I was no longer dying, I felt the intimidation sink back in. With the general's orders, Tavington couldn't hurt me, at least not physically. But he could do much worse.

It wasn't love. I was too sensible to believe in love at first sight. I knew so little of the man, and what I did know did not lead me to feel love. Attraction, yes. Definitely. There was always something about villains, especially the brooding type, that attracted me. Heathcliff, Ademar, Sean Miller. But it was one thing to feel attraction to a bad guy in a book or a movie, and quite another to feel it in real life.

I suppose it was the idea of a woman having that kind of power over a man...that she could break him out of that brooding evil just with her love. But this! The man had just tried to hang me. How could I be harboring even the hint of romantic feelings for him?

"Take her some place where I won't have to look at her for now." Tavington's growl sliced through my musings, drawing me back to reality.

"Yes, sir."

"Right away."

Tavington squared his shoulders and walked with head held high to his tent.

"You and your big, drunken mouth. See what you've done, now?" Borden said in a hoarse whisper.

I turned to face him, thinking he was speaking to me. But he was glaring at his fellow captain.

"Me? It wasn't my fault." Wilkins scowled. "I thought–"

"Don't think anymore. You know he wasn't going to go through with it. You saw how he looked at her."

"Yes, I did. She's made him feel something more than disdain, and you know as well as I do how much he hates that. All the more reason for him to get rid of her before it goes too far."

I couldn't believe my ears. And these two fools, talking about me as if I wasn't even present.

"I'm telling you, he wouldn't have gone through with it. At least not without a confession and some kind of information he could use." Borden turned his gaze to me.

Wilkins nodded. "That's what I thought at first. Especially when he asked for women's clothing. But–"

"So why'd you go getting drunk in that tavern and spouting off to everyone in there that Tavington was hanging a woman?"

"I wasn't drunk." Wilkins sniffed. "I only had an ale or two."

Borden rolled his eyes then stepped up to my side. "Come, Miss Hanson. We'd better hide you for awhile until the colonel calms down a little." He took my arm and urged me to go with him.

"What did you mean, he wasn't going to go through with it?" I yanked my arm away from Borden's grasp.

"The rope wasn't even tied to anything. He just wanted to scare you into confessing your treason."

I let out the most un-lady-like humph. "You eighteenth century men really think women are stupid, don't you?"

"No, ma'am." Wilkins tried to intervene, but Borden stepped in his way.

"He wasn't going to kill you today, but now he's just mad enough that he might."

"And if I confess? Not that I'm guilty of anything. But if I did, then what would happen?"

Borden shrugged. "Then he'd be able to kill you with a clear conscience."

"As if he had a conscience."

"Now, you see?" Wilkins stuck out his finger at me. "That's just the kind of talk that irritates him. You really don't want to do that."

"I'll keep that in mind, thanks." I threw them both what I hoped was a withering glare, and stomped off, determined to have it out with Colonel Tavington.

"Where are you going, Miss Hanson?" Wilkins ran to catch up to me.

"I'm going to give your colonel a piece of my mind."

"Miss Hanson, please just come with us. You really don't want to bother him right now."

I turned and looked up at the big, bumbling bear of a man that was Wilkins. "Yes, I do want to bother him. Nothing would satisfy me more than to know I've bothered him." Awkwardly, I picked up the skirts of my dress and ran for the colonel's tent. I had to do this while I was still angry, and while I had some semblance of protection from General O'Hara.


	7. Chapter 7

Thanks, once again, to those of you who reviewed. Someone on their profile page mentioned that reviews are like drugs...crack, I think this person said. I've never done drugs...don't intend to, but I can say this...the reviews I've gotten so far have been as good as eating chocolate. :-) Yum!

Legalities and all that stuff...I don't own Patriot or any of its characters. Laura and Shadow are my creations.

Chapter 7

"Miss Hanson, be reasonable!" Wilkins and Borden ran after me, catching up just as I reached the tent. I ignored the two captains, and pulled aside the flap to enter. And as I did so, it seemed I collided with a brick wall. But the wall suddenly grew arms that went about my waist, steadying me. I looked up and found the wall also had eyes, and they were none-too-happy to see me.

"I thought I told you two incompetent fools I didn't want to see this woman in front of me," Tavington barked, without taking his gaze off of me.

"She has a mind of her own, sir," Borden mumbled.

Tavington let his arms fall back to his sides, and I stepped away from him. I opened my mouth to retort, to tell him all the angry things I wanted to say, but I suddenly lost my nerve. Those eyes...they seemed to hypnotize me.

"I just came to get my personal belongings." I raised my chin, hoping to match his arrogance.

"Very well." He stepped aside and waved toward the cot where my clotheslay. "Just be brief." I rushed past him, and gathered my things, feeling his gaze on me the whole time. And in the time it took me to pick up my clothes, my courage returned. I whirled around, clutching my jeans and flannel shirt to my chest.

"You have got to be the most despicable, hateful, and deceitful human being I've ever had the displeasure to meet. How could you have acted so kind when all the while you were still planning to kill me? I trusted you, and–" Even as the words spewed from my mouth, I realized my anger was not truly geared toward him, but toward myself for believing him.

"You trusted me?" He smirked, taking a step in my direction. "Maybe you should spend a little time looking in the mirror. First you tell me some cockamamy story about being from the future. Then you concoct another, more ridiculous drama hoping to play on my sympathies. I believe lying would be considered the ultimate in deception, don't you agree?"

"I realize how impossible my original story sounds. I find it hard to believe myself." I shrugged, feeling every drop of anger drain from me. "Yet here I am, and I have no other explanation for my presence here. And if it's hard for me to believe, then I know it's even harder for you. That's why I invented the other story. I'm sorry for lying, but you wouldn't believe the truth." There was no use talking to him. I'd said what I wanted, although it didn't make me feel any better. In fact, now I felt worse. Not for having blasted at him. He deserved that and worse. But for one who prided herself in being sensible, I had been so terribly naive.

I strode for the tent exit, but Tavington stepped in my way. "Don't think this is over, Miss Hanson. I will find out who you are, no matter what that fool, O'Hara and the Lord General think or say."

I shook my head. "You won't. I've told you who I am, and it's the truth. But I have no way of proving it." At least not yet.

He paused, studying me for a moment. "Who is the Ghost? Don't deny you're with him. I can sense the same kind of rebellion in you." Tavington flashed me the Judas smile and softened his voice. "Maybe if you tell me who he is and where I can find him, we can make some sort of arrangement and let you go free."

"The Ghost?" I frowned. Why did that nickname sound familiar? But his condescension rekindled a little of my anger, pushing the annoying thought to the side. "I don't believe in ghosts, Colonel, and I'm surprised a man like you would."

He rolled his eyes and let out a frustrated sigh. "He's not a real ghost, of course. He's a man. Just a man. But as elusive as a ghost." His hand rolled into a fist and his jaw clenched.

"The Ghost. Ok, well, if I see him, I'll be sure to let you know." I gave a short laugh and turned away, humming Yankee Doodle as I stepped outside.

Borden was no where to be seen, but Wilkins, who'd been standing like a sentry guarding the king's gold jumped to my side.

"You are one crazy lady, Miss Hanson. You took him by surprise. That's the only explanation. Otherwise he might have shot you on the spot."

"Captain Wilkins, I'm afraid your colonel is all bark and no bite."

Wilkins snorted. "You say that because you don't know him." He took my arm and stopped me. "I am serious. If you value your life, you will stop playing these games with Tavington. He's not a man to trifle with. You don't know what he's capable of."

I rubbed my neck where the noose had been just a few minutes earlier. "I have an idea."

Once breakfast was over, Colonel Tavington, Captain Wilkins, and two other dragoons set out to take me to Fort Carolina to meet the famous General Cornwallis. I admit, the thought of meeting a great man from the past was exciting. I wished I was going to meet George Washington, or Ben Franklin, but I suppose that was asking too much. I also realized I had been given a gift...an opportunity like no other. It would be rather disappointing if I awoke to discover all of this was just a dream, or the result of a knock on the head. Whatever future the past held for me, I looked forward to it with a new, mounting excitement.

We rode for several hours before we arrived at the fort. Although I rode well, and I had spent hours in the saddle at various times in my past, it was not an every day thing. My legs were sore and tired when it came time to dismount.

For decency's sake, I had slipped my jeans back on, under the dress Colonel Tavington insisted I wear. There was no way I was going to give in to demands to ride side saddle, and although showing a little leg was no big deal for me, I knew it was for those of the eighteenth century. What a sight I must have been! Feminine dress...blue jeans they thought was men's clothing, and my black riding boots. But at least, I thought, my appearance added to the distinction I had of being no ordinary woman.

Colonel Tavington dismounted and waited, making every effort to show his impatience, while I,too,dismounted and stretched the kinks out of my back and legs. And the more he snarled and stamped his feet, the more time I took. Finally I looked up at him, smiling sweetly.

"Shall we go and get this over with?"

He narrowed his eyes and mumbled something under his breath. I figured it was better I didn't hear it anyway, since it probably wasn't very nice. As we walked into the building, I wondered what I could tell the men who were going to question me. The truth, of course, but how much of it?

We entered a large, sparsely furnished room. I saw the man I knew to be General O'Hara standing behind a seated, white-wigged man in a fancy red coat.

"Miss Hanson, I'm glad to see you arrived safely." O'Hara gave a small smile and a very short bow, then turned his glaring gaze to Tavington.

"Thank you, General," I said, and fixed my gaze to Cornwallis. I had read about this man in history class. Had gloated at his defeat, then as I matured, felt sorry for him for the blow to his ego it must have been. And now, by some freak of science, or a miracle, or whatever, I stood before him.

"Miss Hanson, I have been looking over your case, what information I have been given, and I am a little perplexed." The lord general was not one to beat around the bush! Straight to business. But I liked that about him. I was anxious to get this over with.

"Sir, I don't know what kind of proof you need, but I am not a spy. I did not steal my horse, and I was not running away from anything. When Colonel Tavington and his men came upon me, and rescued me from my run-away horse, I had just taken the animal out for a ride. He belongs to my uncle. My only error in all of this was in disobeying my uncle, for he told me the horse was too wild for me. I didn't believe him, and wanted to prove myself, so I took the horse out on my own. That is the truth."

General Cornwallis made a few notes on a piece of paper, then looked up at me.

"You say that Colonel Tavington rescued you?"

"Yes. I lost control of the horse. He jumped over a fence, and in the process I dropped the reigns. Colonel Tavington," I nodded in the colonel's direction, but avoided eye contact with him, "raced ahead along with Captain Borden. The colonel pulled me from the horse, to safety, and Captain Borden then managed to catch the reigns and bring the horse to a halt."

A deep furrow creased Cornwallis' forehead. "So he saved your life only to try to take it from you the following day?"

I shrugged. "He thought I was a spy." I wanted to kick myself, hard. It sounded almost as if I was defending the brute. Not that I'd had any intention of doing so. The words popped out of my mouth before I could catch them. Once again I could feel his gaze boring into me. He was probably as surprised as I was.

Cornwallis turned to Tavington. "What were your reasons for believing this young woman was a spy, Colonel?"

Tavington straightened his shoulders, cleared his throat, then began. "Sir, she didn't exactly lose control of the horse until after the jump over the fence. No beginner or infrequent rider would have been able to remain mounted under such circumstances. She has obviously been trained. The horse only took advantage once she dropped the reigns. And sir, if you see the horse, it is a fine animal. Not the kind of beast a poor farmer's niece would be riding about for fun."

"So you naturally assumed, because of her skill as a rider, that the horse did belong to her, and therefore that she was a rebel spy."

"That is correct, sir." Tavington cleared his throat again.

"All circumstantial, don't you agree, Colonel? What proof do you have?"

"None. And that is what I was trying to acquire. I was not truly going to hang Miss Hanson, but I hoped to gain a confession of some sort, then leave the hanging to you." He paused a split second, then looked the general straight in the eyes. "She has lived in the area for eleven years, sir. She would know the Ghost or his whereabouts. I'm sure she has some kind of information we could use to capture this–" He glanced at me, cutting off the expletive he obviously wished to use. So there was some remnant of a gentleman in there...somewhere. Or maybe it was just a show for the lord general.

"I see your point, Colonel." General Cornwallis studied me, nodding slowly. "Miss Hanson, where do your sympathies lie in this...conflict?"

Oh boy. What did I answer?

"I-I, um, well–"

"It is a simple question. Are you loyal to the king, or are you not?" A note of impatience tinged the general's voice.

I swallowed hard and looked about. I didn't expect support from anyone in the room, certainly not Tavington. But as I tried to think, our gazes met. For the briefest moment–so brief I might have only dreamed it–I thought I saw sympathy. Maybe even a touch of remorse. That look, whether imagined or real, gave me strength to speak.

"General Cornwallis, I respect the English presence in the colonies. I believe there was a time when amends could have been made. But too much has happened now, to turn back. Errors were made on both sides, in my humble opinion. Americans will have their independence, and there is nothing you and your soldiers, your king or your parliament can do about it. It is inevitable."

A loud drumming in my ears was the only sound in the room. And I was sure only I heard the drumming, for it was the sound of my heart pounding wildly against my rib cage. So now what would they do with me? As if with a will of its own, my mouth opened again.

"England and America will become friends again, though. It will take a little while, but we'll all be on the same side eventually." I wanted to bite my words back. How stupid was that? I knew it to be the truth, but from their perspective, how in the world could I have known that? "A-at least, that's what I feel in the depths of my heart. We will always owe our heritage, our roots to the English. We may some day be free to govern ourselves, but we will never be free of the influence of England."

So shut up already, I told myself. This was only making matters worse.

"I was sorely mistaken, General." Tavington broke the second, intense silence, causing me to jump. "This woman is simply insane. She could never be a spy." He gave a short laugh. "And even if she is sane, what could a woman possibly know about politics? You heard her. What a silly speech."

"There is no need to offend the young lady, Colonel," Cornwallis snapped. "But I do believe you are correct." He continued to stare at me, a look that contradicted his last words. He saw something in me, or in my words, that he believed to be true. I wished I could see into his head and read his thoughts. "Do you remove the charge, Colonel?"

Tavington opened his mouth then snapped it shut without speaking.

"I see." Cornwallis sat back in his chair and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "So there isn't really much we can do. But it wouldn't be wise to just let her go free. What do you suggest, Colonel? What do we do with Miss Hanson?"

Tavington stared at me a moment, then looked back to his superior. I was struck with another thought. If they set me free, where would I go? My home didn't exist yet.

"I know it is unconventional, but I would like to keep her with us for a few days."

I nearly choked at the colonel's words.

"If she does belong to the Ghost and his band of rabble, they will want her back. It might be a way to draw them out."

"Then I put her in your charge, Colonel. But you will treat her with respect and dignity. She is a woman, a weaker vessel, and at this point, still a subject of our king."

"Yes, sir." Was that a note of satisfaction in the Butcher's voice? Exactly what was his scheme? I suspected it was more than drawing this Ghost out. He had no proof I even knew the Ghost. My heart began to race anew.


	8. Chapter 8

Thanks, again, for all your wonderful comments. And a public thanks to Silvetail for correcting my spelling. Uh-hum. Reigns/reins.

As always...I don't own Patriot or any of its characters. I'm writing this for fun, and as a creative writing exercise. However, I must give credit where credit is due. One particular attitude of Colonel Tavington in this chapter–his reason for fighting–I gleaned from et-spiritus-sancti, another fanfiction writer. She put it in so touching a scene in her story that it brought tears to my eyes. And after that, I had a slightly different view of Tavington. I don't know if other fans will see it this way, but I think it gives depth to his character.

Lastly, I am treating the events in the movie, Patriot, as historical fact for the sake of the story. I realize the movie is a very fictionalized version of what really happened. But this story of mine is obviously fiction, too, and I'm taking a little "dramatic lisence." Anyway, you'll understand what I mean when you read this chapter.

So...enough rambling, right? On to the chapter. :-)

Chapter 8

Looking much like the Chessie Cat from _Alice in Wonderland_, Colonel Tavington led me out of the room. Away from the safety of Generals Cornwallis and O'Hara.

"I think I rather like this new turn of events," he whispered in my ear as he took hold of my elbow.

I might have turned around and run back to the lord general, confessed to something, and begged for mercy if it weren't for the tight grip Tavington had on my arm. I didn't like the smug satisfaction on his face.

"I don't know who your ghost is, and he doesn't know me, so this little scheme of yours is not going to work."

Paying my words no attention, Tavington picked up the pace so that I had to nearly run to keep up with him.

"I won't be running away anywhere so you can let go of me." I tried to yank my arm away from him, but he wound his fingers tighter.

"Don't fight me, Miss Hanson. I've had quite enough of your mouth and your rebel attitude to last me a life time."

"Poor, poor big, bad Colonel. You're such a victim." I clucked my tongue. "You could just believe me, or then pretend to, and let me go."

He chuckled. "Not a chance, my dear."

"You never know. Maybe if you let me go, I would lead you to the Ghost. I mean, that's what you think, right? That I am in cahoots with him? That way, I'll be out of your hair and maybe you'll even get your man."

"Do I have to put a gag in your mouth to keep you quiet?" He shook his head, but I caught the spark of amusement in his eyes. I wouldn't be surprised if he did try something of the sort.

"That won't be necessary." We walked a few paces in silence. His grasp on my arm loosened as I submitted to his will, but only when we were reunited with the other dragoons did he release me.

"We should head on back to camp," he said. "I don't want to spend a minute more than I need to in this place."

"What about her?" Wilkins nodded toward me.

Tavington grinned. "She's going back with us."

Wilkins' bottom jaw dropped open. "But how–"

Tavington shrugged. "General's orders."

I leaned toward Wilkins and whispered, "Your colonel thinks I'll somehow lead him to the Ghost."

"Are you able to ride back with us, Miss Hanson?" Tavington held out the reins of my horse. It was a challenge more than a question. Although my legs still ached and the last thing I wanted was to sit in the saddle for another couple of hours, I would not back down.

"I've been ordered to stay with you for awhile, haven't I?" I snatched the reins and swung up into the saddle as gracefully as I could manage with the long skirts. What a bother! My respect for women of the 1700s was growing with each moment I spent here. They might have been a little more submissive to their men than the women of my generation, but it took a strong lady to survive in this world.

As we sped out the gate of the fort, heading back to the dragoon camp, I once again pondered my fate. Tavington was up to no good, that much was sure. But just what evil was he cooking up for me?

About an hour from the fort, the colonel dropped back to ride beside me. The grin that spread across his face was no doubt the result of the shock on mine.

"I hope, Miss Hanson, I did not offend you when I called you insane. It was the only thing I could think of to get the lord general to allow you to go free."

"I'm free?"

"You're not incarcerated back at the fort, are you?"

"But I'm not exactly free, either."

"If that's how you want to think of it. Have it your way." He shrugged, and I figured he would ride on ahead. Instead, he remained at my side. I didn't know what to say, and I had to fight the urge to stare at him. "You said some interesting things back there. For once, they didn't sound like the ravings of a mad woman."

"Was that supposed to be a compliment?"

"Take it as you like. I was merely stating a fact."

"Of course you were."

"You seemed so sure." His brow furrowed, but this time it looked more like deep thought than irritation or anger. "What makes you think you–how'd you say it? Y'all?"

"Please, Colonel." I giggled. "Stick to your own English."

He threw me an impatient gaze, then went on. "What makes you think you Americans will win the war?"

I laughed, drawing the attention of Wilkins and the other two dragoons. "That much is simple. I don't have to come from the future to figure that out."

I paused, mostly just to irritate him, and pretended to stifle more laughter. From the clenching of his jaw, I could tell my strategy had worked. But he remained quiet, I can only assume, to not give me the victory in our little war of wills.

"You see, Colonel, we are fighting for our freedom. We're fighting for ourselves, for our future and our children's futures. For the right to be who we are, not who some idiot thousands of miles across the ocean thinks we should be." He snapped his head up at my little blunder in reference to the king. I had to speak fast if I was to finish. "You fight out of duty. And duty to a king you may or may not agree with. You have no choice. You've just got to do it because he says you do. Duty to your country is noble, but it does not have the same power as fighting for your independence."

Once again silence enveloped us for several very long minutes. Finally he looked over at me, a question in his blue eyes. "Is that what you think? That I only fight out of duty to King George?"

"Isn't it? Why else would you be fighting?"

"I have put my life, not to mention my honor on the line. This land is ours as well as yours. We are stronger together. I fight to maintain the unity of our lands, for the good of both Americans and English alike." He glanced about, motioning with his hand. "This land is...a place of opportunity. Of second chances. Here a man can start over again, no matter his past, and he might even prosper. That's why I fight. To preserve what is mine by right."

No smart retort was appropriate this time. He'd opened up a sliver of his heart–maybe the only piece of it that existed–and I could not in good conscience poke fun at that. But could I believe him? He had nothing to gain from this conversation, so I chose to believe him. Being a conscious choice, I might not feel quite so stupid if it turned out I'd made another mistake.

"What? Have I managed to silence you with my words?" He laughed outright...the first I'd seen him do so with such absence of sarcasm since I'd jumped into his life.

"Maybe I have misjudged you." I spoke in a whisper, afraid of the implications of my very words.

"You may not approve of my tactics, as your fellow rebels do not. But we are at war, and it's not a game. I fight to win, Miss Hanson, and I do whatever it takes."

I turned and looked him straight on. "Then go home, because you won't win. And in turn, you may--" He was going to die. The certainty of that hit me like a punch in the stomach, taking my breath away for a brief, unpleasant moment.

"I may...?" he prodded.

"You may lose your life for a cause that is already lost for you."

It all came rushing to my mind in one big, jumbled mess. Of course all of this was familiar. I'd read about it in South Carolina history books! And I now remembered the name of the Ghost. He was a farmer named Benjamin Martin, who had a personal vendetta against Tavington for killing two of his sons. Had I been brought back in time for a purpose? I never thought of myself as anything special, but could it be that Someone had maneuvered time and put me here to save lives? The first Martin boy was already dead. Otherwise, there would be no Ghost. But there was a chance to save the second son...and...Oh my, oh my! The church! A number of Benjamin Martin's friends and his daughter-in-law had been killed when–

I suddenly had a mission. How I was going to go about it, I had no idea, but if I could keep those tragedies from happening, maybe I could even keep the Butcher himself alive. And that, I realized, was becoming ever more important to me.


	9. Chapter 9

Thanks, as always, for reading and reviewing. Y'all give me something to look forward to. :-)

Disclaimer stuff: I don't own Patriot (alas, not even on DVD...can't find it in my neck of the woods) I don't own any of the characters from the movie, and I'm not getting paid for any of this writing. It's just for fun and a little creative writing exercise.

Chapter 9

I wanted to tell him everything I knew. I wanted to grab him by the lapels and tell him to forget his obsession with the Ghost. Oh, how I wanted to make him see himself the way I now did. He wasn't really a monster. He was a warrior, fighting in the only way he knew how, for a cause he thought was right.

But I had to tread carefully. A man like Tavington would not change over night, and the information I could give him could mean the downfall of so many others...and lead in the end to his as well. For his own good, I had to keep my knowledge to myself. The tricky part would be in hiding it from him. The man saw everything...even when there wasn't anything to see.

About half an hour later, we arrived at the camp. As Colonel Tavington slid down so expertly from his horse, I could not take my eyes off of him. So full of life...so young. He couldn't die. There was potential for love in that heart of his. He just had to be shown he was capable of it. When one is told something often enough, one begins to believe it. _He _had to see that he wasn't the monster he'd been made out to be. Could I help him see that?

He tethered his horse beside his tent, then turned, catching me still mounted and staring at him. His eyebrows arched, and he cocked his head slightly to the side as he ambled up to Shadow and me.

"Are you all right, Miss Hanson? You look as if you've suddenly begun to believe in ghosts, and that you've actually seen one. Your as pale as–"

"No, no. I'm fine." I threw him a quick smile, hoping to cover any emotion left on my face. I mustn't have been very successful, for he continued to study me, a slight frown creasing his forehead. My cheeks grew hot at his perusal.

"I was making fun about you believing in ghosts, but you do look frightened. Is it something I said or did?"

"Is that a hopeful note I hear in your voice, Colonel?"

He shook his head and clucked his tongue. "I am doing my best to be kind, and all you know how to do is mock me." He let out a forced, melodramatic sigh.

My lips twitched with a smile I tried hard not to show. "No, no, no. You are simply not suited for the role of victim. It doesn't fit."

He shrugged and reached up toward me. "Do you need a hand down? Maybe you're not used to riding for so long."

"A hand down?" I didn't need his help, but I couldn't deny how much I wanted it. Just for the chance to touch him and be touched by him. Oh boy, I'd gotten it bad. I had to rein in my emotions or they would take over and I wouldn't be able to accomplish my new found objective.

Determined not to give in to my silly, romantic desires, I shook my head. "I think I can manage on my own, thank you." But as I moved to dismount, the layers of skirts I just knew I would never get used to tangled with my already weary legs. I grasped for the saddle horn but it was just out of reach. I was going down, and it wasn't going to be a pretty fall. I sucked in a breath, bracing myself forimpact with the ground.

The impact I expected never came. Warm, strong arms moved about me, and I was gathered tightly to a firm chest.

"It's all right. Open your eyes," Tavington coaxed softly. "I've got you."

I did open my eyes, and found myself looking up into his face...so close to mine. My gaze flicked to his mouth. What would it feel like to kiss him? The thought sent a tremor through my body.

For a few blissful seconds he continued to hold me. He roamed my entire face with his eyes, his gaze settling briefly on my lips.

"This has been a long, hard day for you. Maybe you should get some rest," he said, then loosened his hold on me.

"Yes, I suppose you're right." I pulled away, looking down and feeling the blush creep into my cheeks all over again.

"I will arrange for you to have your own tent while you stay with us. It won't be large, but it will allow you some privacy."

"Thank you." I still couldn't bring myself to look at him.

"Very well." He whirled about and strode off in the direction of his tent. "Wilkins, I need to speak with you."

I stood in the same spot, watching him. Was this part of his plan? To make me fall so completely in love with him, that I'd do anything for him? He couldn't have known I would fall off my horse. But had that little accident played right into his hands? I could not allow myself to be this vulnerable. The man had a seductive quality that seemed to wipe away all sense. But I had to hold on to mine. If I was going to save him, I had to remain rational.

I wandered toward the wooded area behind the camp. If I had my bearings right, a small brook ran through that forest. I could use a little alone time to think, and maybe to bathe, if I got up enough courage to do so. A shiver ran up my spine at the thought of the icy water.

I ambled through the trees, thinking what my next move should be. Ironically, the one thought that would not leave me alone was that I should become the spy Tavington accused me of being. Very risky. But maybe if I could get information to Martin and his men, then they would be able to keep their families safe. And if their families remained safe, then the hatred toward the colonel might not be quite as intense. A long shot, but it could help to keep him alive.

The only other option was to give Tavington his Ghost. And that was an option I was not willing to take. Those men were my fellow patriots, and I would not choose the object of my romantic affections over the lives of the men fighting for my freedom. A freedom I had taken for granted, though I had not realized it until that moment.

I sighed, and stepped up to the banks of the brook. The sound of water bubbling over stones had a soothing effect on my nerves. I began to remove the heavy dress, the layers of skirts, then the stays. Such an awful invention, although it did a lot for my figure. It was no wonder women of old often died in childbirth. Using such a contraption likely squeezed a woman's insides together to the point there was no room for a baby to grow properly. I shook those thoughts from my mind and proceeded to dip my hands into the cold water.

The wind picked up, blowing its icy breath through me, down to my bones. I shivered, glad for the jeans still covering my legs, and thought better of getting wet. I certainly didn't need to catch something like pneumonia and be laid up sick, unable to carry out my mission. I splashed a little water on my face, and under my arms, then proceeded to pull the clothes back on. I fought with the stays for a few minutes, then gave up. The dress probably wouldn't fit right without, but I wasn't too concerned. I pulled my flannel shirt and my jacketfrom a leather bag Wilkins had given me for the trip, and slipped into them.

The sun had dipped behind the trees by the time I finished dressing. Soon enough the stars would be blinking up above. I found a fallen log and plopped down onto it.

"I need help," I groaned, and rested my face in my hands. But who could I turn to? Never in my life had I felt quite so alone. How I could have used the wisdom of Uncle Dave. Even if he didn't know what to tell me, he'd at least work with me to figure something out.

I'm not sure how long I sat on the log, taking turns staring up at the sky, and then out at the brook which I could barely see in the limited light. A twig cracked behind me.

"Here you are. I thought maybe you'd run off to find your compatriots." Colonel Tavington approached slowly.

I smiled and shook my head. "Even if I knew where they were, you should know by now I would not purposely lead you to them."

"Well, now. That was a mild response. You seem rather subdued. May I sit with you a moment?"

I thought he might just take his place on the log beside me, butagain I was reminded how little I really knew of him. He stood in place, waiting for my reply. Just like a well-bred English gentleman should.

"Please, have a seat." I scooted over, although there was plenty of space for both of us.

He sat and looked up at the night sky. "Do you enjoy the outdoors, Miss Hanson?"

"Making small talk, now, are we? Why don't you just ask what you really want to know?"

He smirked. "And what exactly do you think I really want to know?"

I shrugged. "I asked first."

He let out a long sigh. "You could have tried to escape. I gave you the opportunity and plenty of time." He turned his head to look at me. "Why did you stay?"

There was no denying the hopeful note in his voice. But was it put on?

"For one, I have no where else to go."

"Don't you?"

"I already told you, I don't know the Ghost, or his whereabouts." At least worded that way, it was the truth.

"Very well. Let's pretend I believe that. If you had somewhere to go, would you go?"

Whatwas his deal?

"I can't answer that question, I'm afraid. I don't have anywhere to go, so how can I know what I would do if things were different?"

"Now you're being evasive." He chuckled, then slid a bit closer. "You intrigue me, Miss Hanson. I've never met a woman quite like you."

"And now you're trying to be charming. What exactly do you want from me?"

"Oh, I'm sure we can think of something." He reached out and took a strand of my hair. "Even in those funny looking clothes of yours, you stand out as a very attractive woman."

I wanted to bask in the warmth of his words, but I could not trust him. Snatching back the lock of my hair which he still held lightly between his fingers, I stood and stepped away from him.

"Don't try to use flattery to play with my feelings. It is not becoming, even of you."

He too, stood and came toward me. "Did you give up on the dress I had brought for you? You looked very nice in it. I ordered Bordon and Wilkins to find a blue one because I could just tell it would bring out thecolor in your lovely eyes."

I understood just how Eve felt in the Garden of Eden, with that slithering serpent tempting her to eat the forbidden fruit. But certainly Eve's forbidden fruit had not been as tempting as was mine right now. I could almost see a forked tongue sliding in and out of Tavington's mouth, fangs on either side. Forbidden fruit and serpent wrapped up in one.

"I'm sure your powers of seduction work well on most women, Colonel."

"Please, call me William." He stepped closer, and I knew I was at the edge offalling right into his trap.

"But you see, I am not like most women, and your scheme won't work." I faced him, knowing it was the only way to give any credibility to my words. "I happen to have a brain, not air, inside my head." With my index finger, I poked at my temple. "I know just what you are trying to do, and it won't work." I glared at him a few seconds, then turned and, using every drop of will power within me, walked away.

"Must I remind you, Miss Hanson, that you are never to walk away from me without my permission?"

Ah...the Tavington I knew was back. Whew! And a lot easier to deal with. I ignored him, stopping only to snatch up the dress and stays I'd left hanging from a tree branch.

"I hope my tent is ready." I yawned. "I could use a good night of sleep."


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimers: I don't own anything in The Patriot...none of the characters etc. Laura and Shadow are my creations. Personal fun and those addicting reviews are the only profit I gain from doing this. Nothing monetary.

Thanks to all you wonderful people who took the time to read and review. Y'all are great!

Chapter 10

I wasn't sure exactly what he would do, and maybe I'd pushed too far by walking away. But I felt some measure of safety in the command of Cornwallis that I be treated well. Tavington's own certainty that I knew where to find the Ghost was my other security blanket.

I hurried through the darkened forest, anxious to get to the camp where there were others around...where I would not be alone with Tavington. If he'd sensed the effect he had on me, and continued to come on to me the way he'd just done, I was in deep trouble.

As I barged into the open camp, I hurried to search out Wilkins. Maybe I could chat with him awhile, and keep my distance from the colonel. I found him seated with several other dragoons, Bordon included, around a fire. Each man had a plate of food. My stomach began to rumble, reminding me it was near to empty.

"Captain Wilkins." I poked him on the shoulder.

"Good evening, Miss Hanson. I hadn't seen you around. Care to join us?" He moved aside, but as I stepped into the light from the fire, he frowned. "Was there a problem with the dress?"

I shook my head. "Besides the fact that I'm not in the least used to wearing such clothes, no, there was no problem. It's lovely."

"Good." He smiled relief. "I had a hard time finding it. You're just a bit taller than most of the women I know, who are about your size otherwise. That dress belonged to my cousin."

"Be sure to thank her for me, then." I glanced behind me to see if Tavington had returned yet. He walked slowly out of the woods, his eyes fixed on me. Smiling as brightly as I could, I turned back to Wilkins. "Do you know if the colonel was able to arrange a tent for me?"

"Yes, ma'am. It's that one, right next to his." Wilkins pointed, and as I followed the line of his finger, I saw Tavington standing at the entrance to his own tent, a smug half grin on his face. So he figured I would be bothered in some way by the placement of the tent? Irksome. That's what he was.

I turned back to Wilkins, fighting to keep the quiver out of my voice. "Thank you, Captain." I was about to leave, but Wilkins reached out and took hold of my arm.

"Wouldn't you like a little dinner? Surely you must be hungry. I just filled this plate, but I haven't touched it yet."

I nodded, taking the plate of food he held out to me. "Again, thanks."

Wilkins smiled and scooted aside to make room for me. "You look tired."

I shrugged. "A little. Nothing I can't handle."

I ate the food quietly, while the men around the fire talked. Their conversation seemed a little subdued, and I assumed it was because of my presence. I hurried to finish eating, wanting nothing more than to just get away and be alone again with my thoughts. As soon as I finished, I stood.

"I'm going to turn in for the night," I said to Wilkins.

"Good night, Miss Hanson." He reached out and took the dirty plate. "I'll take care of that for you."

I mumbled another thank you, then headed to my new quarters. There was no sign of Tavington, and his tent was dark. I told myself I didn't care, that it was none of my business what he did and where he was. But even if I could not see him, I figured he might be somewhere that he could see me. I raised my head, determined to keep an attitude of dignity and pride. The Butcher would not beat me down, no matter what he tried. Having my tent placed right next to his was just one more little twisted piece of his plan. A way to control me, maybe. Ah...but two could play at this game. He'd messed with the wrong woman. A small smile twitched at the corners of my lips. Wouldn't it be the ultimate revenge if I managed to turn the tables and make him fall for me? How I would gloat once I had him eating out of my hand.

My tent was smaller than the colonel's, but I certainly didn't need anything bigger. I'd been provided with a cot, a small, rustic table and chair, and a lantern. At least I had a place to come to be alone. I threw the dress and stays on the table, and removed everything else but my own 21st century clothes. With a weary sigh, I lay down on the cot and placed my hands behind my head. At first, I thought I would lie awake most of the night, but my eyes grew heavy. The last thing I remember was thinking once again of Uncle Dave and the farm...and my big warm bed in my comfy warm room...

I awoke with a start. Noise...voices...a woman crying out. It was still dark, and I had no way of knowing what time it was. As the cobwebs disintegrated from my head, I realized the woman was not crying, but laughing. I held my breath and listened. A male voice, also laughing...and speaking slightly slurred. Tavington?

I got up from the cot and stepped outside. Sure enough, Tavington was stumbling through the camp, his arm draped around the shoulders of a rather cheap looking woman. A quick scan of the camp informed me most of the others had already gone to sleep. I returned my gaze to Tavington and the woman. They laughed loudly, obviously not caring who they disturbed. How rude, I thought. And not the kind of behavior fitting of an officer. Shaking my head, I was about to turn back into my tent, when Tavington saw me.

"Miss Hanson!" He slurred, raising a bottle with his free hand. "Care to join us?"

"Uh...no thanks." I sniggered, throwing the two a look of disdain.

"I'm sorry, did we disturb you?" Tavington peeled his arm from around his companion and stumbled toward me. "Were you already asleep?"

"Yes, I was sleeping. And you should probably be doing the same."

He laughed, then turned his head away from me, speaking over his shoulder. "She just arrived yesterday, and already she thinks she has the right to order me around."

"It wasn't an order, just a suggestion." I tried to keep the edge out of my voice. "This kind of behavior certainly won't help you find your Ghost."

The mention of the Ghost brought a scowl to his lips. "Now why'd you go and bring him up when I was in such high spirits?"

I didn't miss the fact he'd suddenly lost his drunken slur. Cursing under his breath, he turned to the woman. "Come, my dear. Let us enjoy what is left of the night."

With a casual glance back at me, he headed into his tent with his "friend."

"Good night, Colonel," I said lightly. But as soon as I was safely enshrouded in the darkness of my tent, I began to rant to myself. Was this how he carried on all the time, or was it a show for my benefit? He wasn't drunk. Maybe he'd had a bit to drink, but the alcohol wasn't controlling him.So what was his motive? Trying to make me jealous? I snorted a laugh as I fell back onto the cot.

"As if! You think way too highly of yourself, William Tavington." I shook my fist in the direction of his quarters, from where I could still hear muffled laughter. Jealous of a trampy camp follower? The nerve of him! If that was the kind of company he chose to keep, then I would do well to go find Ben Martin. Why should I care if Colonel Tavington, the Butcher, the cold-blooded murderer of my people, died a violent, untimely death? He deserved it. Maybe I'd run him through myself, and enjoy the look of shock, horror and disappointment in those cool, blue eyes. I rolled over, consoling myself with these sadistic thoughts, and somehow managed to dose off again.

* * *

I was just waking to the sounds of activity in the camp when I heard Tavington's bellow. 

"Wilkins, Bordon!"

I sat up and stretched, then casually stood and strolled to look outside. Bordon and Wilkins were just entering Tavington's tent. I stretched again, then decided to give my "new" clothes another try.

I had just finished putting on all the under things, and was struggling with the stays when I heard Wilkins outside.

"Miss Hanson? Are you awake?"

"Wilkins! Bless you. Come in." I called.

He stepped in, and when he saw me, quickly turned away. "I'm sorry. I thought you said to come in."

"I did. Come here and help me with this horrid thing. I can't seem to do this by myself."

Awkwardly, he came toward me, having a hard time knowing where to fix his gaze. "I-I'm not sure I'll be much help."

"Oh come on. How hard can it be? Tavington knew just what to do."

"Well, he would, wouldn't he?" Wilkins grumbled something to himself, then took the laces from my hand. "Fine. I guess it can't be that difficult to figure out." He pulled lightly, barely tightening the thing around my waist.

"Come on, Wilkins. I'll never get into that dress if you don't pull it tighter."

With a heavy sigh, he pulled again. And again, until I told him he could stop.

"That can't be comfortable," he said, staring at my waist, having suddenly lost his shyness.

"It's not. I don't know how your women can wear these, day in, day out. I'd never put up with it." As I slipped into the dress, I questioned the captain. "What did you call me for?"

"Oh, right. Tavington wants you to go see him as soon as you are dressed."

"Fine." I pulled the comb through my hair, tied it with the scrunchy, and then followed Wilkins next door.

As I stepped into Tavington's tent, my eyes moved inadvertently to his cot. The woman from the night before lay there, sleeping, her dress tangled about her knees. I drew my lips together in a taut line, fighting the urge to scream. It was _not _jealousy. I was more refined of a person than to give in to that.

"Good morning, Miss Hanson." Tavington smiled, a victorious gleam in his eyes. "I trust you slept well?"

"Very well, thank you." I returned his smile and gave him an up and down scan. He was neat as a pin, face clean-shaven, his hair perfectly groomed, and his crisp, clean uniform buttoned, the lace at his throat tied just right. At least I could be sure the previous night's drunken scene had been, indeed, an act. "You seem well rested yourself. I admit, I'm a little surprised."

"Oh?" He arched his eyebrows innocently, then gave the briefest glance in the direction of his cot. "Caroline–er–Miss Aldridge didn't have anywhere to stay for the night."

"And you kindly allowed her the use of your quarters. So gentlemanly of you."

"Yes." He gave a curt nod, then frowned as he took in my appearance. "Hm. Go change into your own clothes." He looked back at his desk in a dismissive gesture.

"My own clothes?"

He glanced up, his eyes wide with feigned surprise...or concern...or something. His brows knit together into a frown. "Are you having a hard time hearing? Or am I speaking in a language with which you aren't familiar?"

"No, of course not. I just don't understand."

He leaned forward on his table and spoke again, mouthing each word carefully. "Go-change-in-to-your-own-clothes."

Fighting down my irritation, I nodded. "I understood your words, and even their meaning. I don't understand why."

"It's a good thing you aren't one of my men. If I had to take the time to explain each and every order I gave them..." He shook his head and looked at me as if I were a helpless cause.

"For once, we agree. And since I am _not_ one of your men, please do me the courtesy of explaining your odd request. I thought it was important to you that I wear this dress."

He shrugged. "What you wear is no real concern of mine, Miss Hanson. I thought it would be more appropriate for you to dress as a woman. For the sake of the men." He turned away, obviously trying to dismiss me again.

But I wouldn't let him off that easily. "Your reason, Colonel? You still have not explained why you wish me to change."

Heaving a heavy sigh, he threw me an impatient glare. "I have some–er–errands to run, and I can't very well leave you behind." He gave me a pointed stare. "I am, therefore, forced to take you along, and you obviously are not used to riding in feminine clothes. To avoid any more possible accidents, such as your clumsy dismount yesterday, you'd better dress in your..._future_ clothing."

I smiled and laughed at once. "See? Now was that really so hard? You could have just said that from the start, and avoided this little quarrel altogether."

"Quarrel? No, no, Miss Hanson. This was no quarrel. It was simply you being difficult."

"Whatever. I'll be right back. Thank you for your concern for my well being." I flashed him an impish grin, then hurried away before he could retort.

On one hand, it would be a relief to get out of these clothes. My own were definitely more comfortable. On the other hand, I felt there was another reason for his request. A reason that left me feeling frustrated, although I couldn't quite figure out why.

My list of modifiers for the colonel grew with each encounter. Deceptive, hateful, gorgeous, irksome, infuriating, charmingly seductive, irritating, cunning. How I hated him! How I wanted to throw my arms about him and lose myself in his embrace.

I sighed as I stepped into my tent and hurried to get out of the clothes that had been such a nuisance to put on. What next?

end chapter

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Question for y'all. I don't have the movie to look at (sob) so for those of you who know, is there any indication of what time of year (season...winter?...spring?...etc.) when the church burning took place? From my memory, the wedding scene at the beach looked to be in warmish weather, though maybe not exactly summer.The scene where Billings arrives at his home and finds his wife and son dead looks a little like early spring or then early fall to me, but I just can't remember. Any help on this would be greatly appreciated. :) 


	11. Chapter 11

Hey y'all. Once again, thanks for the reviews. And thanks to all of you for your ideas about the time of year. I'm still working on that. Will probably have to go out and rent the movie and take a look. There are a few other things I need to check into as well. So...the next chapter might take a little longer to get here.

Disclaimers: I don't own Patriot or any of its characters. This is just for fun.

For those of you who might be "purists", I must warn you that I just might deviate a little (or maybe even alot, we'll see how it plays out) from the original plot. :)

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chapter 11 

As soon as I was re-dressed, I headed back to Tavington's tent. I heard the sleepy voice of Caroline Aldridge, and stopped just short of the entrance. I hadn't intended to eavesdrop, but I couldn't stomach walking in on the two of them at that moment.

"Shall I see you tonight, William?" the woman purred.

"Miss Aldridge, I wish you to leave, now. No need to return tonight."

"But I thought–"

"You thought wrong."

I cleared my throat–loudly–then stepped into the tent. Tavington was just removing the woman's arms from about his neck. They both looked up at me, surprised.

"Oh...excuse me," I said, and slowly turned as if to leave. "I didn't mean to interrupt."

"Ah, Miss Hanson. There you are. Miss Aldridge was just leaving." Tavington gave the woman a warm smile, which drew a puzzled frown to her face, then pulled her into his arms and kissed her on the lips. I rolled my eyes and turned my back on them.

A few seconds later, Caroline brushed passed me, pausing at the entrance to the tent. "Bye, William." She blew him a kiss then turned and left.

"That was interesting." I turned back to Tavington, grinning. "I didn't mean to intrude on your little romantic farewell."

He gave me a casual scan, no readable emotion in his features. "You readied yourself in good time. I suppose there is an advantage to your wearing men's clothes." Then he grabbed his helmet and marched out of the tent.

I followed close behind, mumbling. "They aren't men's clothes. They were made for women."

We set off with just a handful of men. Tavington rode in the lead, and I rode just behind him, between Wilkins and Bordon. The day was turning out to be pleasant enough. Clear, blue skies...warm sunshine cutting through the cool air...and the view of Colonel Tavington, sitting straight as a pin atop his horse, just in front of me.

"Where exactly are we going?" I asked Wilkins.

"Around. See if we can gather any information about the–" He glanced at Tavington then leaned slightly to the side and whispered. "The Ghost."

"Interesting. Is this how the colonel spends all of his days? Chasing ghosts?"

"Oh no. We spend a lot of time drilling, and at night we–" He cleared his throat and grabbed the reins tighter. "But it seems, with the attacks of the Ghost on our supply wagons, we will eventually be going along to help guard them."

"Oh wow. I suppose Tavy isn't too happy about that, huh?"

"Tavy?" Wilkins shook his head.

"Tell me. Why is he so bothered by the Ghost anyway?"

"Colonel Tavington is not used to defeat, and the Ghost doesn't play by the rules. That puts us at a real disadvantage, and it's hard to know where he's going to strike next. With each new attack, General Cornwallis grows more impatient, and he takes it out on the colonel."

"I suppose that could cause a man to obsess." It made sense, all right. Tavington's words rang in my head..._I fight to win, and I do whatever it takes._ Like locking a bunch of innocent people in a church and burning it down. I did not think he had reached that level of desperation yet, but he was close.

However, _my_ level of desperation was rising. Time was running short, and I still had no real plan of action. Even if Tavington wasn't scrutinizing my every move, I had no idea where to go to find the Ghost and warn him off. I glanced heavenward and breathed a prayer for help.

I'm not one to believe in coincidences. Things always happen for a reason. Sometimes for a preordained purpose, and at other times as a reaction to something that came before. I believe in a God who keeps His hand on things, but also allows humans a measure of free will. What happened next could only have been His preordained will, maybe an answer to my prayer.

We rode into a small village. A little white church with high, pointed steeple caught my eye. A shiver ran through me as I stared at it. That was THE church. I had seen sketches of it in books, sketches done from memory by those who'd seen it before it'd been burned. The real thing looked a little different from those pictures, but there was no denying it was the same church. My stomach churned.

"Are you all right, Miss Hanson?" Wilkins whispered.

"That church. I've seen it before." I couldn't peel my gaze from the innocent looking building.

"That's Reverend Oliver's church."

"I've heard he wa- i-is a good man."

Wilkins shrugged. "He's a reverend. They are supposed to be good men. But he does have rebel tendencies."

A fact I well knew. Those tendencies would get the good reverend killed unless I could help it.

"Do you suppose he's in? I'd like to meet him. Maybe ask him to pray for me."

Wilkins nodded fervently. "That might be a good idea. The way you've been carrying on, you could use a little prayer."

I grinned. "Do you think Tavington will allow it?"

"I don't see why not."

Without thinking further, I veered away from the band of dragoons in the direction of the church. I had just slid to the ground and was about to tether Shadow to a post when Tavington turned his horse in my direction. I swallowed down the bile that rose up in my throat. Pushing the limits was becoming the norm for me, but each time I did, I worried about just how much the old grouch would put up with.

"What do you think you're doing, Miss Hanson?"

I smiled up at him, lifting my hand to shield my eyes from the sun behind him. A line from a comedian I'd once heard ran through my mind, and I chuckled.

"The problem is not what I think I'm doing, Colonel. I know what I'm doing. It's what _you_ think I'm doing, which may or may not be reality, that is or could be the problem."

His nostrils flared and his hand inched toward the pistol at his side. Picking on him would be a whole lot more fun if he didn't take everything so life and death seriously!

"Come, now, Colonel. I just wanted to drop in and say hello to Reverend Oliver. Certainly you can't object to that? Maybe he can say a little prayer for me...and who knows? Might even be able to put in a good word for you, as well."

"You know the reverend, do you?"

"Not personally, no. But I'd like to meet him."

Tavington stared at me a moment. I could see the wheels turning in his head, but I could not for the life of me figure out his thoughts. I suppose that was a part of what attracted me to him...the uncertainty. And what, at the same time, gelled my insides each time we had an encounter.

"What are you not telling me?" He slid from his horse and stepped up to me, using his superior height to its full advantage.

"Hm...let's see. That I don't think it will do any good to have the minister pray for your soul, since you seem determined to do your best to get into the other place?"

His eyes slanted, and I had the impression he wanted to strangle me. Only his strong military discipline kept him from giving into his desires, I was sure. That or the fact that if he did so now, he would later regret killing me in so mild and quick a manner.

"I am in no mood for your lip, Miss Hanson. Go see your minister, but be back outside in five minutes." He spun about to remount, but I just couldn't help goading him a tad further.

"But what if it takes me that long just to find him?"

He stopped in his tracks, and I thought he took in a deep breath. With a half smile on his lips, he faced me again. _Uh-oh_, I thought as he approached me.

"If you are not back outside that church in five minutes, I will close the doors and set the place on fire. Then you and your minister friend can go into eternity praying together."

I sobered. Maybe I had misjudged his desperation level. Or maybe he really did have that kind of a mean streak in him.

"Fine. I'll be brief." I glared at him a split second, then hurried into the church.

A thick-set man in a somber black coat sat in the front pew. He turned as I approached, and stood.

"Hello, may I help you?" he asked, a ready smile on his round face.

"Reverend Oliver, I have very little time." I rushed toward him, glancing over my shoulder just in case I'd been followed.

"Actually I'm not Reverend Oliver. He's--not in at the moment." His face creased with concern. "Maybe I can help you with something?"

I nodded and got close enough that I could whisper. "I have only five minutes. Less, actually."

"Is something wrong?" He whispered back.

"Who are you?" I asked.

"I'm a friend of the reverend's. I've been filling in for him while he's been-er-indisposed."

I knew I was taking a risk, but if he was a friend and seemed to know why the reverend wasn't around, then he wouldn't rat me out.

"Look, I can't explain it all right now. Just know that the reverend and everyone associated with 'The Ghost' are in danger." I made a point of not using Benjamin Martin's name lest any unseen ears might be listening. "Colonel Tavington is out to get the Ghost, but he doesn't know who he is yet. He will find out, and he will do a terrible thing. He's going to gather everyone in this church, lock and chain the doors, and burn it. There will be no survivors."

The heavy man stepped back, his mouth falling open. "H-how do you know this?"

"I can't explain, and you wouldn't believe me anyway. Just please do what you can to warn the reverend and the Ghost, and keep your families safe. I'm riding with the dragoons right now, but I am not one of them. Colonel Tavington is aware of that, but he thinks I know where to find the Ghost. I don't, and I don't care to know. But I think-I think you do." I glanced behind me one more time, then looked back at the man. "I must go, now. Please, believe me. You are my only chance."

I turned and rushed outside, before he could delay me further. Colonel Tavington and the other dragoons were just exiting what looked like a general store. As I mounted Shadow, Colonel Tavington glanced at me, then pulled a watch from his pocket and shook his head as he looked down at it.

"Pity," he said when I rode up next to his horse. "Only four and a half minutes." He swung up into his saddle and smirked. "I have always enjoyed a good bonfire."

"Sorry to disappoint you. But I can obey orders...when I want to."

His ominous words did not affect me as he'd likely hoped they would. The relief I felt at that moment washed away all other emotion. There was no way of knowing if the reverend believed me or not, but a burden had been lifted from my shoulders none-the-less.

It was late afternoon when we returned to the camp. Tavington seemed more frustrated than ever. I couldn't help but wonder if he was going to go get "drunk" again. Maybe I'd do well to stay out of his way. I was just stepping into my tent when I heard him roar out my name.

"Miss Hanson, I wish to see you in my tent, now."

I gulped and hurried to oblige.

He was mumbling to himself, brushing papers here and there on his desk, and looking very much like someone I'd rather not face at that moment. In a likely vain attempt to lighten the mood, I stuck my fingers in my ears.

"Maybe I should come back later, when your language is a little more...decent?"

He stopped his ranting and looked up, surprise registering on his face. "Forgive my rudeness, Miss Hanson. It would be easier to think of you as a woman if you were in your dress."

"I can always go change, if you'd like. Give you a few minutes to cool down?"

"Cool down?" His forehead creased. "It may not be very cold at the moment, but it is by no means hot."

"I meant, give you a few minutes to calm yourself. You seem rather frustrated, and my presence will probably just make you feel worse."

His brows arched, and amusement filled his eyes. "Your concern warms my heart. But wait. Are you worried for my sake, or your own?"

"My own, of course." I snorted a laugh. "Why on earth should I be worried about you?"

He smiled with no warmth. "So you are afraid of me."

"Well let's see. When we first met, you threatened to shoot me. Then you tried to hang me, although you claim you weren't going to go through with it. Next you threaten to burn me up inside a locked church. All within only a couple of days." I shrugged and let him fill in the rest if he so chose.

He stepped out from behind his desk and came slowly toward me. "Maybe if you weren't so blasted irritating. Contradicting me at every turn, questioning my orders, and always coming up with some nonsensical retort to everything I say." He held up his hands and clenched them into fists.

"So now you wish to strangle me with your bare hands?" _I_ wanted to strangle myself at the softness with which my voice came out. Where'd that whisper come from? In a gesture meant to counter my speech, I raised my chin, exposing my neck to him. "Go ahead. Do it."

"You have no idea how tempting that offer is." He stepped closer, and ran the back of his fingers down the side of my neck.

Surprised at the caress, I stepped back. He came another step closer.

"Funny how you seem to fear me more when I am trying to be gentle with you. All your defiance just...melts away." His voice poured over me like a fragrant oil.

The wall of the tent was at my back as I staggered another step away from him. He just kept coming.

"Why is that, Miss Hanson?" His arms shot out and he grabbed me about the waist, pulling me to him. "We could be so much more civil to each other, if only you wanted that."

His head dipped toward mine as his arms tightened about me. No! My head screamed, although my heart...and my body wished to give right in. This was not right...just another ploy of his to get me more "compliant."

"Colonel, no." I managed to bring up my hands and push against his chest. "I am not some cheap camp follower that you can take advantage of." I pushed with all my might, breaking his hold on me. Anger welled within me. "Why don't you go find Miss Aldridge. I'm sure she will be more than happy to keep you company."

I stumbled away from him, toward the exit.

"You are not dismissed," he snapped. "I called you in here for a reason."

"Yes, you've made that very clear." I glared at him, hoping he wouldn't see through my anger.

"Forgive my inappropriate behavior." He gave the slightest bow of his head, then straightened his jacket and sat in the chair behind his desk. "I did have a legitimate reason for calling you here."

"Very well. What is it?" I wished for a chair myself. My legs trembled so, I thought I would fall.

"I must commend you on your quick visit with the reverend." He paused, smirking up at me. "I wouldn't really have burned down the church. Certainly you know that."

"No, I don't know that. I think you are perfectly capable of doing just that."

The line between his eyes, just above his nose, deepened. "I am, Miss Hanson, duty bound to keep you safe. Lord General's orders, as you well know. For the sake of duty, you must know that I would always rise above my personal desires, and obey my superior."

"So you're saying I am only safe because of General Cornwallis?"

"What do you think?" He gave a light shrug, then looked back at a paper on his desk. "What did you talk about with the reverend? Confessing your sins, were you?"

"I'm not Catholic. And neither is Reverend Oliver."

"So why such urgency to speak with him?"

"My, my, you are a nosey creature."

He let out a long breath and sat back. "Reverend Oliver is a good man, I'm sure. But he walks a fine line between simply expressing political views and being downright treasonous."

"And? I've made it no secret where my political views lie. Why would I not wish to chat with a man who shares my views?"

Tavington's jaw clenched, and I knew I was treading on thin ice. I had to give him something that would appease him. But what?

"First of all, you didn't give me enough time to do anything treacherous. Secondly, the reverend wasn't there. I simply went in and said hello to the man who was there, and told him that you had threatened to burn down the church."

His bottom jaw fell open. "You told him what?"

I grinned. "Don't worry. I don't think he believed me.I think he was a minister, too, therefore probably a good man.A good man would think the best even of you."

Tavington's shoulders drooped slightly, and I could see the fatigue in his face as he looked back to his desk. Sympathy washed over me, and I wished I could do something to at least soothe his nerves. A few seconds of intense silence ensued. I opened my mouth, venturing, just this once, kind words.

"You look tired. Exhausted, really. Maybe you should get a good night's sleep. Worry about your ghost tomorrow."

His head snapped up, and the look of surprise on his face was priceless. "Was that true concern I heard in your voice?"

"Why not?" I shrugged, smiled briefly, then hurried out of the tent.


	12. Chapter 12

Sorry about all my whining about not owning the movie.It's just a little frustrating, because it would help alot to get these details straight. So...I finally got my hands on a copy. Yay! I ended up cutting off the end of this chapter to work on the details. Thanks to all of you who are still with me, and apparently still enjoying. Y'all are great. But you know that already, don't you?

Disclaimer: I don't own The Patriot or any of its characters. I'm doing this for fun, and to see if I can get over writer's block on my "real" revolutionary war story.

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Chapter 12 

The days passed in much the same way, each one seeming to meld into the next. Some days we rode out in search of the ghost. Other times the men spent in training. On those days, I would sit off to the side and watch. Mostly I watched Tavington.

Wilkins and I had a sort of camaraderie going. Bordon always seemed to stick his nose up at me. I didn't really care, but it was nice having at least one "friend" in the camp. The other dragoons treated me with a certain distant respect...not getting too close, but never acting rude or snobby. Having a tendency to talk without thinking at times, I tried to keep to myself as much as possible. I was afraid I might give away some vital information that could bring my whole rescue plan crashing down.

The orders finally came for the dragoons to accompany a caravan of supply wagons. Tavington called me into his tent the night before. Since the day I'd seen the church, Tavington had pretty much kept his distance. As frustrating as it was on one hand, I was relieved. But now I would have to face him again, alone in the seclusion of his tent. With butterflies in my stomach, I went to see him.

"Miss Hanson, as you are probably aware by now, the lord general has ordered us to accompany the wagons leaving from Fort Carolina tomorrow. I have a little dilemma I hope you will help me to solve." He sat back in his chair and looked up at me, his face the picture of innocence.

"You want me to help you?" I laughed.

"Yes. You see, because of the nature of our mission tomorrow, I must take more than just a handful of men with me." He stood, rubbing the side of his neck with his hand. "I need Wilkins and Bordon with me, and there really isn't anyone else I would trust to leave you with."

I just stood there staring at him, not quite sure what he was getting at. Smiling, he moved in front of his desk, but I noticed he stood at a comfortable distance, hands pulled stiffly behind his back.

"No response? That is something." He chuckled, then went on. "I have two options. I could leave you in the camp, tied and chained to a tree...or somewhere. I could leave a man or two to guard you."

I sucked in a breath through my nose and stiffened. He wouldn't dare! Even as the thought crossed my mind, another set of words, _Oh yes he would!_ followed right behind.

Tavington flashed me the Judas smile, then turned, looking at me out of the corner of his eye. "That idea doesn't seem to appeal to you." He went on when I said nothing. "The other option is to take you along, as I have in the past." Now he looked me straight on. All arrogance washed from his features, and a kind of seriousness I would never have expected replaced it. "This could be just a long, boring journey. But it could turn into a dangerous mission. I do not wish to put a civilian, even a rebel one, at unnecessary risk."

"I understand. And I am aware of the risks."

"I'm sure you are. So help me. What should I do? Can I trust you to go with us? Can I be sure that, should your friend, the Ghost, attack us, you won't turn and shoot me...or any of my men if you get your hands on a weapon?"

I looked down, and realized I had clenched my hands together. "I would never shoot you or anyone else." Slowly I raised my head to look at him. "I abhor war and violence, and I wish we could all live together in peace. The time I have spent here with the dragoons has helped me to see all of you as-as human beings. We might have been born in different places, might have different political or religious leanings. But deep down, we all just want the same thing. A good life. To love and be loved, to be free of fear and oppression. You said yourself that you fight to keep this land. So do the Continentals. So you're not really that different."

He stared at me a few eternal moments, then shrugged. "You give me your word?"

I nodded. "Absolutely."

"You will travel toward the middle of our convoy. If we are attacked, I have assigned a man to watch out for you. Should we run into battle, you are, under no circumstances, to follow. Is that clear? You ridewell, but you are no warrior."

"I understand."

"Good." He smiled again. "Get some rest. We will be heading out to the fort early tomorrow morning."

I turned to leave, but stopped just before stepping outside. "Good night, Colonel. You should sleep some, too. You've been burning the midnight oil for many days, now."

When he looked up, I could see the surprise clearly etched in the lines about his eyes. "Spying on me, are you?"

I laughed and shook my head. "I've already told you I'm not a spy." Before I said, or worse–did–something stupid, I hurried away.

* * *

We were up before the sun. As I rolled out of my cot and stretched, I could hear the sounds of the awakening camp. A light cough drew my attention to the entrance of my tent. 

"Miss Hanson? Are you awake?" It was Tavington's voice.

I gasped, just imagining what I looked like.

"Y-yes, I'm awake. I'll be right there." Where was that little piece of a mirror? Not that it would make that much difference. I couldn't see much in the dark.

"Are you decent? May I come in?"

Come in? My heart raced. Why did he want to come into my tent at this hour? It didn't matter. He couldn't see me like this. Oh, and the morning breath! Not that he would be getting that close.

"J-just a moment." I grabbed the silver comb and yanked it through my hair. Pain seared my scalp at my roughness. He wouldn't wait long. But it seemed the harder I tried to hurry, the longer I seemed to take. When I thought my hair was at least presentable, I poked my head outside. "Yes?" I blinked up at the Colonel, who stood holding a lit lantern.

He grinned in amusement, and arched one eyebrow. "May I come in?"

"Why do you want to come into my tent?"

"I simply wish to speak with you...to make a request."

"You can't make your request from there?"

His grin widened. "Miss Hanson, I have nothing but respect for you as a woman. Believe me. You're integrity is safe with me."

"I wasn't–that's not–oh, whatever." I stepped aside and indicated with my hand for him to enter. Otherwise he would think I was afraid. Which, of course I was, and he probably already knew it. But I could at least try to put up a good front.

Stifling a yawn, I stumbled back toward my cot and picked up the comb I'd tossed there a minute before.

Tavington took his time, casually setting the lantern on my little table before turning to face me.

"So what did you wish to say to me?" I asked as I resumed combing my hair. There were no longer any tangles in it, but I needed something to do to occupy my hands and my attention.

He must have enjoyed the nervousness I could not mask, for he continued to stall.

I pulled my hair back to braid it. As I did so, I turned and looked at him. "Well? Are you going to speak, or just stand there watching me do my hair?"

With one long stride, he stepped up to me, taking the now ragged scrunchy from my hand.

"Leave it down." He ran his fingers through what I'd twisted of the braid, setting my hair free once again.

"B-but why? It's not proper–"

"Pull some of it back. But your hair is very pretty hanging down your back."

"Thank you." I turned away, sucking in a deep breath, and picked up the comb again.

"I want you to wear the dress today."

I whirled around to face him. "But–"

"There you go again." He heaved a heavy sigh and shook his head. "Must you always question everything?"

"As you said yourself, I ride much better in my own clothes."

He nodded, then shook his head. "I realize that, but I think it would be better if you wore the dress this time." Tavington looked down, suddenly taking on the appearance of a shy school boy. "I think it would be better for General Cornwallis to see you looking like a woman. And–"

I bit my tongue to not say anything obnoxious. Either he truly was a very good actor, or then he was having a hard time getting out what he wanted to say. An awkward silence descended on us like a thick, wool blanket.

He looked up again and gave a brief smile. A twitch of his lips, really. "I think, should we be set upon by rebels, with you in a dress, they won't mistake you for a man. Not that you really look much like one, even in your odd clothes. But from a distance..." He shrugged. "Just as a safety measure."

I nodded, and could not contain the smile that burst upon my lips. "Thank you for your concern. I will be glad to wear the dress."

He nodded, then hesitantly stepped away. "All right, then. Be ready as quickly as possible. I'll have Wilkins bring you something to eat."

"Again, thank you, Colonel."

With another curt nod, he whisked away and disappeared through the tent exit.

My fingers trembled as I pulled on the "female" clothes. I had not worn them since the first time I had ridden out with the dragoons. I'd managed to get my hands on a few pieces of fabric and some sewing supplies, thanks mostly to Wilkins, and had made up a few new shirts. I cut them in a feminine way, accenting my waist, and leaving a bit of a "tail" that was reminiscent of the tops of 18th century women's dresses. I wore my jeans, taking them off only to wash them out. Those were awkward times, and I used the long under skirts while waiting for the jeans to dry. A time was coming when the jeans would grow too ragged to use anymore. I'd already patched up a few holes in the knees. But I figured I'd worry about that when the time came.

With the skirts and other under things in place, I glanced at the stays. I'd lost some weight in the past couple of weeks. With nothing much to do, when we weren't out riding or I wasn't watching the men drill, I would take long walks through the woods and up the banks of the brook. The exercise and rather restricted diet worked better than any weight-loss program back in my home time period. Any excess weight usually seemed to concentrate about my hips anyway, so I figured, with what I'd lost around my middle I just might get away with not having to use that nasty corset. I slipped into the dress, and let out a shriek of delight.

"Yippee! No stays!"

* * *

When we set out, the sun had just begun to rise. The sky looked like an artist's pallet. First a little yellow and orange seeped through the gray dawn. Slowly the colors mixed, blending into a reddish purple, then slowly giving way to blue. Gazing at the beauty of nature, I had a hard time believing a war was going on around me. Of course, I had seen little of it anyway, for which I was glad. But I had a feeling, maybe a premonition, that my "luck" was about to change. 

The sun stood proudly in place when we rode into the fort.Several wagons were loaded and ready to set out. General Cornwallis himself strode from the main building, up to Colonel Tavington.

"Good. You're here." The general glanced up at me, then frowned. "You're not planning on taking the young lady along, are you?"

"Actually–" Tavington coughed, then plastered on a polite smile. "Yes, I had planned to take her with me."

"Don't you think it would be safer for her to stay here?"

My heart sank. I didn't want to stay at the fort, no matter if it would be safer.

"I'm sure you are correct, my lord." Tavington bowed his head, then shot a look at me. He must have seen my aversion to the thought of staying, for he smiled with renewed energy and looked back at the general. "Miss Hanson is aware of the dangers, and she has chosen to go with us. I believe she is trying to make amends for past mistakes, and hopes her presence with us will keep the Ghost from attacking."

Cornwallis furrowed his brows. "You don't really believe that, Colonel. Your 'Ghost' is not conventional in any way. Surely the presence of a woman he deems a loyalist, and therefore an enemy, would not keep him from doing what he does best."

"No sir, of course not." He leaned in closer to the general and whispered, but still loud enough that I could hear. "But _she_ thinks it might help." He shrugged, straightening himself. "If it will help to clear her conscience..."

"I don't like it." Cornwallis shook his head.

"Neither do I, sir," Tavington purred, "but I have taken precautions. She will be kept safe."

Cornwallis stared hard at the colonel. "I hope so. For your sake, as well as hers. She better not be hurt. And maybe it's about time she is returned to her home."

The clenching in my stomach nearly made me throw up my breakfast. Home? That place was becoming a distant, blissful memory. But here, it did not exist. Where would I go?

Who was I kidding? Certainly not myself. Where to go was the least of my concerns, and certainly not the cause of my stomach discomfort. The truth was, I wanted to stay with the dragoons. With Tavington.

I gazed at the man while he continued to speak with the general. Had I fallen in love with him? There was nothing loveable about him, yet... No, it wasn't love. Couldn't be. You had to spend time doing things with a person, sharing in the same kinds of fun activities. You had to have something in common. A kindred spirit, so to speak. Tavington was everything I had ever vowed to NOT love. We had nothing in common, except, maybe, the enjoyment of our verbal fencing matches. That wasn't love. Still entered the category of physical attraction. Well, that was a relief.

I could no longer hear the conversation between Tavington and Cornwallis, the general having pulled the colonel away, out of my earshot. That bothered me, for I was certain the general would find some way to make me stay. I sat atop Shadow for a few, very long minutes, waiting...watching them for a sign ofwhich waythe conversation flowed. Finally, Tavington strode away, a victorious smile on his face.

"Shall we be off?" He swung up onto his horse, then turned to me. "Would you rather stay behind?"

I threw him an impatient glare. "You know better than that."

He shrugged, wiping the grin from his face. "I just wanted to be sure." Then with a nod, he kicked his horse into action and cantered away from me.

Nope. It wasn't love. Couldn't be.


	13. Chapter 13

Thanks, as always, for reading and reviewing. I'm finally sticking my neck out and attempting to incorporate an actual scene from the movie. :) So without further ado, here goes.

Chapter 13

The procession started out slowly, the wagons creaking with their loads. A number of foot soldiers marched out first, and the dragoons came up last. As soon as we got on the road, Tavington ordered the dragoons to hang back.

"We'll play by the same rules as the rebels. Let the wagons go on ahead. We'll go off the main road whenever we can, hopefully staying hidden from the Ghost." The last word slid from his lips like venomous oil, and accompanied a smirk full of disdain. I sighed. My job was not going to be easy.

Tavington divided the men into two groups, and sent one group to the right of the wagons, and led the rest on the left. I sat my horse in the middle of the two groups, waiting for him to tell me where to go.

"You." He pointed at me. "Come with me. I don't want to take any chances, and have you running off to warn your friends."

I smiled, and rode up next to him. "Is that really wise, Colonel? If I'm with you, I can more easily point you out when the Ghost shows up."

"He has a nasty habit of shooting officers first. Not a very gentlemanly way to fight." He turned to look at me, his lips puckered into a snarl. "Your presence will not make a difference to my safety." He paused, and a smile pulled up one half of his mouth. "But my presence with you will make a difference in how you act. I'm sure you are anxious for a chance to get away from me."

"Is that why you wouldn't let me stay back at the fort?"

"Of course. If I let you stay back there, you'd find some way of weaseling your way out. You'd give Cornwallis and O'Hara some ridiculous sob story like the one you tried on me, and those two inept fools would believe you."

"Shame, shame. Speaking in so degrading a manner about your superiors."

"Cornwallis may be a genius and a gentleman when it comes to war, but he's absolutely...how'd you put it the other day? Clueless? When it comes to women."

I laughed. "You'd catch on well in the 21st century, Colonel. See how you're picking up the lingo just from hanging with me?"

He shook his head, probably not having understood most of what I'd just said, then galloped to the front of the line.

I'm not sure how long we traveled, but it was a tedious journey of stops and starts. The wagons rolled along at a slow pace, and the foot soldiers seemed to slow the progress even more. We would hang back, then ride, then hang back again.

Some time after noon, a rider in plain clothes rode up to Tavington. We halted, and the two men spoke. I could not hear what they were saying, but Tavington's face brightened, though he didn't actually smile. He spoke for a few seconds, then the rider nodded, saluted, and rode off at a gallop.

Tavingtonturned back to us. "Looks as if we might catch this Ghost today after all." He smirked as his gaze rested on me, then faced his horse around again, and kicked it into a hard gallop. The other dragoons followed suite.

My heart hammered in my ears, almost drowning out the pounding of hooves on dirt. Tavington stopped us at the foot of a hill, then rode up to the top. He made quite an imposing figure, sitting tall in his saddle. The only thing taller, but not necessarily straighter was a single, thin tree beside him. I watched as he pulled out a long spyglass. Except for raising the object to his eye over and over, he did not budge. Suddenly, he sat up straighter, if that could be possible, and whipped the spyglass away. I could hear voices over the hill. A pause.Gun shots. The other dragoons all rushed past me, up the hill toward Tavington. When I moved to do the same, the dragoon ordered to stay with me held me back.

"Not now, Miss Hanson."

I stared at the line of dragoons. They waited but a second, then charged down the hill.

I turned to my escort. "Please, I must see what is happening. Can't we just stay at the top of the hill?"

He hesitated. "I have been ordered to shoot you if you try to escape, or help the rebels. I don't want to have to do that. And if danger comes our way, you are to do exactly what I tell you. Colonel Tavington's orders. You are not to escape, nor to be harmed.

"I understand."

Without further hesitation, he nodded, and urged his horse forward. I followed close behind, stopping at the top of the hill. The scene that played out before me is forever fixed in my mind.

So much was happening at once. The two wagons, now bare of their canvases, stood empty. It was hard to see clearly for the clouds billowing up from the muskets. A number of British soldiers lay on the road, wounded or dead. Several colonials also lay motionless, but most of them had mounted horses and were trying to escape.

I wanted to turn away, to shield my eyes from the carnage, but I could not. The dragoons looked magnificent as they charged. If only the men they were fighting were my enemies! I cringed with each man, British or American, that fell.

Where was Tavington? My insides gelled as I searched for him. _Please, oh please, God, don't let anything happen to him_.

A band of rebels rumbled across a small, stone bridge, only to be ambushed by more Regulars hidden in the tall grass on the adjacent hill. I gasped. Where did all those men come from? That's when I saw Tavington. He rode at the head of the dragoons, hot on the tail of a second group of colonials, headed for thestone bridge. The colonials stopped suddenly. They were trapped! I held my breath. They had to get away. I did not wish to see them killed, yet I did not wish to see them turn and fire on the dragoons. How could I be so torn?

The colonials suddenly dashed across the bridge, and veered to the side, escaping through the stream that flowed beneath the bridge. Tavington was all right, and I breathed a sigh of relief. But the first group of colonials were now surrounded by the regulars, hands and weapons in the air.

Would they be killed? Shot on the spot? Such brutality was how Tavington had initially gotten his reputation.

I kicked my horse into a gallop. I could not stand by and just watch.

Tavington turned away from thebridge, and galloped toward the group of captured men.

"Don't kill them," I yelled as I rode up to the colonel. "Take them as prisoners, but don't kill them."

He turned to me, eyes slanted, nostrils flaring. "What did I tell you, Miss Hanson? You are not to join the battle."

"The battle is over. You've whipped them good. But don't shoot these men. It wouldn't be right."

Although the angry flash did not dissipate from his eyes, an arrogant grin spread across his lips. "Of course we're not going to shoot them. They will be transported safely back to Fort Carolina...to be hanged as traitors." With a scowl aimed in my direction, he kicked his horse and galloped off.

The smoke died down, and only then did I see the full result of the quick battle. I had barely managed a dismount when the contents of my stomach came spewing out. My body continued to retch, and I thought my very stomach would come up my throat.

"Easy. You'll be all right." I heard the voice through an irritating ringing in my ears, but the note of concern was unmistakable. My vision clouded, though not like when I'd passed out. A large, gentle hand rested on my shoulder, then pulled me back when I began to topple forward. "The first time you've seen real combat, huh?"

I looked up...way up, into a face at the top of a much taller man than Tavington. Wilkins. I smiled, hoping to cover my disappointment, and allowed him to help me back to my horse. As I mounted, I glanced about for Tavington. He waited at the head of the remaining dragoons, glaring disdain and impatience at me.

A desire to cry overwhelmed me, but I knew I had to contain it. I could not show that kind of weakness. Not now.

* * *

Ok...so how'd I do? Be honest y'all! Have a great day. :) 


	14. Chapter 14

Well, here goes. I've been trying to do a chapter a day, but I don't know what the weekend will be like. So here goes the next. Thanks to all of you for being so faithful. ) Your reviews are even helping me lose weight! ;-)

* * *

Chapter 14

I maintained my distance from Tavington as we rode back to camp. He should have been happy. The day's events had certainly been successful enough.

Without a word to anyone, once we arrived at the camp, Tavington made straight for his tent and closed himself up inside. Apparently, the Ghost hadn't been among those captured. I sighed, and made my way to my own tent. It had been a long, emotional day, and I just wanted to go to sleep. I didn't even care about eating anything. In fact, I didn't think my stomach could handle anything.

I changed into my jeans and flannel shirt. At that moment I needed comfort–whatever kind I could get. As I lay in my cot, huddled beneath the rough, woolen blanket, the tears slipped out of my eyes and ran down my cheeks. I'd held in the emotions after making such a scene, throwing up in front of everyone. But now, in the seclusion of my tent, I figured I could allow myself the luxury of a few tears.

* * *

A/N: Ok, this is very "unconventional," but this scene in Tavington's POV just played out in my mind, and I wrote it, and now I want to include it here. I guess I could post it as a very short one shot, but it would only make sense to those of you who are reading my story. If you'd rather not read it, skip down to the next line break for the rest of the main story. :)

* * *

Tavington dipped his quill into the ink pot and began to write. Cornwallis would want a report of the day's events as soon as possible. As his pen glided over the paper, however, the image of Miss Hanson...Laura...looking on in horror at the results of the battle, invaded his mind. He set down his quill and sighed, rubbing his face with his hands. How long had it been since he'd felt that same repulsion? Killing came so easily now. Looking into her face, hearing her plead with him to spare the lives of the captured men...watching her retch until nothing remained tocome out... 

He'd seen in her face–and remembered, for the first time in years–his own lost innocence. Funny. Until she hadjumped into his life, he'd never missed it. Never even thought about it. He'd finally learned to block out the little voice in his head that kept him on this side of "monsterhood." But now...oh, now he heard that voice again. Yapping in his head. Ringing in his...conscience? So he hadn't lost it after all. Curse her!

He stood, knocking his chair to the ground with a muffled thud. Maybe General Cornwallis was right. Maybe he should just let her go. At first, he'd been convinced she would help draw out the Ghost. But as the days wore on, and he was no closer to finding his nemesis, he realized the girl could not help him. Yet, stubbornly, he held on to her. He couldn't bring himself to let her go, and his only justification for that was...the Ghost. He'd filled his mind with theories about why he felt that way. There was something comforting about having a woman in the camp. Well, at least that woman. Comforting? He'd gone mad. _She_ drove him mad. No, there was nothing comforting about Laura Hanson.

Even as he thought about her mocking laugh, her twinkling eyes when she poked fun at him, his fingers rolled into a claw-like formation. More often than not, he wanted to strangle the girl. Then, at times she would look at him with a sweet softness in her expression...Something he was just not used to in his dreary, angry life. Could it be she–cared for him? He'd always run from that kind of emotional tie. In his line of work, he couldn't really afford it. How could he rush so fearlessly into battle when he knew someone who loved him stayed behind, hoping and praying he would return?

The inside of his tent seemed to close in on him, stifling him. He needed a little fresh air, cool breeze to help clear his head.

Pulling on his red and green coat, he stepped outside. His gaze was drawn inadvertently to the small tent beside his. A light smile played at the corner of his lips. Was she already sleeping? He stepped up to the entrance of her tent and was about to call her name softly, but sounds from inside struck his ear and tied his heart up in knots. Crying. No, more like sobbing... muffled, but unmistakably forlorn, heart-rending sobs. An overwhelming desire to rush in there and take her in his arms washed over him. But after his past mistakes, in trying to treat her like any other woman, she would never accept his comfort.

He tip-toed back, away from the tent. It would be best to let her be. Women needed to cry at times, it seemed, and maybe when he saw her again, he could try to make things up to her. If only she would let him. With a heavy sigh, he strode away.

* * *

A/N: And now...back to our regularly scheduled programing... 

I must have fallen asleep in the middle of my crying, for when I finally awoke, I could see through the walls of the tent that it was daylight. My head hurt as if I had a hangover. Or so I supposed, since I'd never had a hangover. Slowly, I struggled out of the cot and staggered to the entrance. Bright sunlight stabbed into my eyes as I pulled the flap open. It looked to be close to noon.

I let the flap fall back into place, then stumbled around trying to figure out what to do next. Exhaustion pulled at my muscles, and furthered the throbbing in my head. With a groan, I slumped into the chair, and held my head in my hands, elbows on the table. If only I had some Tylenol!

After a few minutes, I stood and readied myself to face what was left of this day. As I stepped outside, Wilkinsrushed up to me, his face contorted into a concerned frown.

"Miss Hanson, are you all right? I came to check on you several times, but you never answered when I called."

I smiled up at the gentle giant. "I'm fine, thanks. I must have been very tired, for I only woke now."

Relief smoothed out the lines in his forehead and he flashed a brilliant smile."I'm glad to hear it. Are you hungry? You didn't eat anything last night, and you missed breakfast."

At the mention of food, my stomach rumbled "I think that would be nice. Thank you."

He nodded, then hastened away. Why couldn't I have fallen for him?Wilkins was everything a woman could want. Tall and handsome, a brave soldier and valiant fighter, but gentle as a stuffed teddy bear with me. I sighed. Some day, if he survived this war, he would make some woman a good husband.

I managedto swallow the food Wilkins brought while he sat and chatted with me. My thoughts were elsewhere, and I barely heard anything he said. Finally, he stopped talking and looked at me, sympathy shining in his eyes.

"You've fallen in love with him, haven't you?"

I nearly choked on the last bite of food in my mouth. "In love with who?"

"Who do you think? Tavington, of course." He sighed and shook his head. "I feel for you, Miss Hanson. I really do. He might even love you back, but he won't ever allow himself to realize that, let alone admit it."

"Well thank you for that, Mr. Freud." I snorted.

"Mr. who?"

"Never mind. Of course I'm not in love with Tavington." I laughed with exaggerated glee. "I can't stand the man. He's holding me here against my will, is as mean and obnoxious as a human being can be, and–and–Grr!" I raised my hands, tightly wound into fists, and shook them.

Wilkins threw his head back and laughed. "I'm not an expert on love, but I do believe you've got it bad." He stood, took my now empty plate, then bent and patted me on the shoulder. "I hope my girl feels that deeply for me."

"Wilkins, you big, dumb oaf. Did you not hear a word I said?"

"I heard you, all right," he called back over his shoulder as he jogged off, laughing.

The nerve! Yet, the awful, painful truth was, I believed he might even be right. My reaction at the battle scene...the disappointment when Tavington regarded me with such disdain. What did I care what he thought of me? I groaned. I cared. A lot.

Casually, I glanced about. The camp seemed rather quiet. Where was Tavington?

Wilkins strolled back to where I sat and slumped down next to me.

"So, what's going on today?" I asked, hoping he wouldn't see through the question.

"We did some drills this morning, while you were sleeping. Tavington left for the fort early this morning, with Bordon. He should be back by nightfall.Until he gets back, though, we've got the afternoon off."

"I see." I sighed like a love-sick school girl.

"My guess is that we'll be going out for our–er–night time...rounds in the next few days. But probably not tonight."

"Night time rounds? What exactly does that mean?"

He looked to the ground, clasping his big hands together. Twice he opened his mouth then shut it, and reached up and scratched the side of his head. "We–uh–Well, we go about-um- getting...information on traitors."

"That was hard for you to get out. You're obviously not too proud about how you get this...information."

He shook his head. "I suppose in war, you have to do things that just go against everything you believe and feel. And I know that some of those people might even deserve it, but–" He paused, and I thought he wasn't going to go on.

"Deserve what?" I prodded gently.

"To have their homes and everything they own burned. And sometimes, if they mouth off too much, they get a bullet in the head." He shrugged. "I suppose it's not much different from hanging criminals. At least those who only lose their homes can rebuild."

His own words obviously did not convince him. I felt sorry for him in a way. He'd chosen his side, feeling as strongly that his choice was right as, say, Benjamin Martin felt about his choice to fight against England. What a complicated mess. How precious, and at what cost our freedom had been won! Whatever the outcome of this little adventure of mine, I would never, ever take my American liberty for granted again.

Heavy silence hung between us. I wanted to say something to make him feel better, but nothing intelligent came to mind.

More bits and pieces of information started to rumble about in my brain. That jump through the cloud, through time, had apparently affected my memory. But now, with the help of Wilkins' account of the night raids, I began to remember more of what I'd read. Benjamin Martin's sister-in-law had a homeburned down by Colonel Tavington. It mustn't have happened yet, for he still was not aware that Martin was the Ghost. What could I do with that information?

I jumped up, needing time alone to think. "I'm going for a little walk."

Wilkins sprung to his feet and nodded. "All right. But I have to go with you." He gave a sheepish grin. "Colonel's orders."

I stared up at him as an idea formed.

"What?" He frowned. "You don't really think I _want_ to babysit you all day, do you?"

"Wilkins, where exactly does your girl live?"

His forehead creased, deepening his frown. "Why?"

"Because I want to know. How long has it been since you've seen her?"

He slanted his eyes and looked at me sideways. "What is going through that head of yours?"

"I need a few things." I shrugged. "I just thought maybe we could ride into that little town where the church is. There was a general store there, wasn't there?"

Wilkins nodded, still gazing at me suspiciously. "And what does that have to do with my girl?"

I smiled sweetly. "I just thought it might be an opportunity for you to see her. If she lives near there."

The suspicion drained from his eyes, and a hopeful light filled them. "We would have to go fast, but even to have a few minutes–" He cut himself off, looking down at the ground as deep crimson flooded his cheeks.

I couldn't contain the laugh that bubbled up within me. "Looks like _you've_ got it bad for some lucky girl." I grabbed his arm and dragged him off to where our horses were tethered. "Come on. Let's do it. If Tavington fusses, you just leave him to me."

"I must be losing my mind," Wilkins mumbled.


	15. Chapter 15

Thanks again, y'all,for reviewing. The family took off for the afternoon, so I came rushing to the computer to get this next chapter up. As long as they're out and it's quiet, I'll by typing away on chapter 16. :)

Chapter 15

As we rode into town, the church once again drew my gaze. Ghosts, who were only ghosts in _my_ past, seemed to haunt the area anyway. Only in my mind, of course, for they were not yet ghosts. And maybe they would live a little longer, if I had my way. I looked forward again, seeing out of the corner of my eye that Wilkins looked at me curiously.

"What is it about that little church that bothers you so, Miss Hanson?" he asked.

"I think it's haunted." I grinned, trying to makelight of his question. "You don't see the ghosts?"

We had pulled up in front of a little building with a white picket fence about the front yard. I dismounted in a rush to avoid trying to figure reasonable sounding answers to give Wilkins.

"Will you be long?" he asked as he, too, slid to the ground.

"Oh...I don't know. But why don't you go on now, and go see your girl. Meet me back here in about an hour."

"I don't know." He shook his head, scrunching up one side of his face. "Colonel Tavington said–"

"Yes, yes, I know. He told you to babysit me all day." I grabbed the big man by both arms and looked up into his face. "We've become friends, haven't we?"

"I-I guess so." His frown deepened.

"And if I tried to escape, you're the one who would pay. Right?"

"Yes, that's right."

"And a good friend wouldn't do that to her friend."

"Hopefully not, but–"

"I give you my word. I will not run away." I let go of his arms and shrugged. "Where else would I go? I have no desire to run away, for at least while Tavington thinks I'm in league with the Ghost, he'll keep me around. I get free room and board that way." I slapped him on the back. "So go on, you big lug. Go spend a little time with your girl. But the longer you stand here arguing with me, the less time you'll have with her." I held outShadow's reins. "Take my horse with you if you don't trust me. I won't get very far on foot even if I do try to run away."

He sucked in a breath and looked up to the sky. "Miss Hanson, I am insane to even be here, let alone to listen to you." He gazed back down into my eyes. "If you do try to run away, so help me, I'll–I will kill you with my own bare hands if you do anything stupid."

I grinned. "A threat I would never take lightly."

He mounted his horse, then reached down. "Give me those reins." With one last empty glare, he took the reins I handed up to him and trotted away. I stoodwatching until Wilkins and the two horses were no longer in view.

As I turned to go inside, I wondered how I would make these people believe me. They would think of me as a mad woman if I told them the truth. I stepped inside, and looked about.

A young woman with long, curly hair sat at a tall desk, writing. She turned, offering me a wide, friendly smile. "May I help you?"

"Hi, yes." I returned her smile and walked toward her. As I drew closer, I could see her gaze flick down to my jeans, then back to my face. Curious confusion registered in her large, expressive eyes. "Actually, I was just looking."

The girl gave a little humph and giggled. "No one comes in here just looking."

"Not even Gabriel Martin?" I watched her closely for a reaction.

The smile disappeared, and a wary coldness infused her eyes. But there was no mistaking the light blush that crept into her cheeks at the mention of the eldest Martin boy.

"What do you want, miss? I'm quite busy, so if you really don't need anything..." She turned back to her desk in a dismissive gesture.

Acting purely on impulse, I grabbed her arm and turned her back to face me. "Anne."

She yanked her arm from my grasp and glared at me. "Who are you? What do you want?"

I let out a quick breath and tried to smile. This was turning out to be much harder than I thought. "I'm sorry, I know you must be really freaked out right now."

Her delicate eyebrows drew together, deepening her frown.

"I-I mean, you must think I'm some crazy woman out to do you harm." I laughed and looked down, pointing to my jeans. "I'm not dressed very womanly, right?" I looked up again, hoping to see I'd made progress, but instead, the fear in Anne's eyes had melted, and something akin to anger had replaced it.

"Look, I don't mean to be rude," she said, "but please leave. I don't know who you are, but I have work to do."

"Please." I cringed at the desperate note in my own voice. "I cannot explain much, but I need you to warn–" I paused, looked about, then lowered my voice. "The Ghost."

Her eyes widened just a bit, then that guarded iciness returned. "I don't know the Ghost."

"You don't have to admit anything to me. I'm not trying to glean information, butdispense it. Just tell him–tell him that Tavington is very close to finding out his identity, and his sister-in-law may be in danger. I don't know when, but I believe Colonel Tavington is going to burn down her home. To get at Be-the Ghost. Just tell him." I could feel my own face contorting into a desperate frown. "Anne, your own life may depend on it."

I whirled around and strode to the door.

"Wait." Anne ran after me, placing her slender hand on my shoulder. "Is there anything I can get for you?"

"Don't worry about me." I turned back to face her and smiled. "I just want you to go on and marry Gabriel and live a long, happy life together."

"How do you know these things?" She now gazed at me with a mixture of emotions in her eyes. Although I could not read her mind, I thought doubt and wonder were foremost.

I shook my head. "I really can't tell you. Just please try to put all logic aside and believe what I'm telling you."

She nodded, finally smiling again. A smaller smile, but one that imparted gratitude.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Wilkins riding up. "Look, I've got to go." Again on impulse, I reached out and hugged the startled girl. "Be careful," I whispered, then let her go and ran out to meet Wilkins.

"What are you doing back already?" I placed my fists on my hips and, trying hard to look angry, glared up at Wilkins.

He jumped to the ground, his gaze roaming past me to the girl still standingat the door. "Youfriends with the Howards?"

The question was asked casually, and although Wilkinshad been kind to me all this time, he was still a loyalist. And the Howards were obviously "rebels."

"Had never met aone of them before today." I grinned, proud of my very true answer. "But Anne's a nice girl. We had a very short, but enjoyable chat. It was nice to talk to another woman again. I don't get much decent conversation, stuck with you ignorant men all the time."

"What did you talk about?" Wilkins was obviously working hard to keep his voice light and casual, but I suddenly grew wary of him.

"Why the twenty questions?" I humphed. "And you never did answer me. Why'd you come back so quickly?"

"You didn't really think I was going to go off and leave you behind, did you? I wanted to see what you'd do."

So I'd been right. I pulled my lips into a taut line, trying to remember just the expression Tavington used when he was trying to intimidate someone.

"James Wilkins, I'm offended." I swung up into the saddleand kicked Shadow into a gallop.

Wilkins caught up with me in a flash.

"Laura, wait." It was the first time he had ever used my first name. I slowed Shadow into a trot.

"Ah...so we are on a first name basis, now, eh James?" I grinned, unable to keep up my angry demeanor.

"Oh, um, I'm sorry. Miss Hanson." He blushed, and I couldn't hold in the laugh. The color in his face just looked funny considering his size, and his status as a dragoon captain.

"No, that's fine. Laura. I think our friendship--even if you don't trust me for real--has earned us first names, don't you think?"

"If you say so." He gave me a look that washard to read. That he did not understand me in the least was very clear, and I liked it that way. Hopefully I was just as much a mystery to Tavington. "Don't be angry, ok? I just couldn't in good conscience leave you behind. If Colonel Tavington–"

"Don't worry about it," I said softly. "They didn't have what I needed anyway."

"I'm sorry." He shrugged, but with a lightness that seemed to come from relief. Maybe I, too, rode with the same lightness, for once again I felt I had taken another step in the right direction. Maybe I would be successful in my mission.

* * *

Wilkins seemed more than relieved when we rode into camp at dusk, and Tavington and Bordon had not yet returned. We did, however, receive a few odd stares from the other dragoons. 

"Once again, I'm sorry your trip was unsuccessful," Wilkins said as I was about to turn off toward my tent.

"That's ok.I'm sorry you didn't get to go see your girl. I don't know about for you, but it was still a nice change to get away from this boring camp for a little while." I shrugged, hoping to convey a brave front in the face of disappointment. He could never know just how successful my trip had been.

Not too long after I'd settled into my cot for the evening–it wasn't late, but there was nothing better to do–I heard pounding that could only mean galloping horses. I jumped from the cot and rushed outside in none-too-graceful a way, nearly tripping as I did so.

Tavington pulled his mount to a stop, then slid to the ground and took off at a fast march for the tent where Wilkins bunked. He didn't even take the time to tether his horse.

Uh-oh, I thought. Something had happened, and from the look on his face it hadn't been good. Bottled up anger and frustration, along with some meticulously concocted evil plan.It seemed the cork was about to pop off and the contents erupt.

My heart hammered my rib cage as I ran in the direction of Wilkins' tent. No one noticed me slip in at first. All eyes were glued to Tavington, then to Wilkins, who was apparently having a hard time looking at the rest of his comrades.

"That would be Benjamin Martin's farm, I believe." Wilkins finally looked up, and then his gaze strayed from his commander to me.

Following the line of Wilkins' gaze, Tavington turned, and rested his hard stare on me.

"What are you doing here, Miss Hanson? Return at once to your own tent until I call for you."

I swallowed the smart answer I wanted to give. "Yes sir." I gulped, and then hurried out.

"Well, well. Miracles never cease!" I heard Tavington grumble just as I retreated.

Something big was about to happen. I could feel it, but I could not figure out what it was. I wracked my brain, trying to remember what I'd read. Of course, the history books never went into such minute details as I now lived them.

I hadbarely entered my tent when Tavington stormed in after me. I whirled about, feeling my eyes grow wide as he came toward me.

"Get ready to ride, Miss Hanson. Your comfortable riding clothes. There will be no need for frilly dresses tonight."

"Where–" I had no chance to get the question out.

Tavington grabbed me by the shoulders and gave me a hard shake. "Don't question me this time. Just do as I've asked."

_Asked? _Again, I bit back the word and just nodded.

One side of his mouth twitched in what I suppose was meant to be a thank you, then he left.

I pulled on my leather jacket, and grabbed my helmet. As I stepped into the night, the flurry of activity in the camp told me everything. The dragoons were going on one of their raiding expeditions. My stomach knotted. Why would Tavington want to take me along? Certainly he didn't expect me to join in their terrorist-style intimidation tactics. So why?

I would soon find out, and his reason didn't make me feel any better.


	16. Chapter 16

Thanks again for your wonderful reviews.

And as everyone knows by now, I don't own The Patriot or any of its characters.

For all of you, of course, but especially for Liz-04. You asked...

Chapter 16

I stood at the entrance to my tent, watching as the men made ready. Tavington saw me and, for a few seconds, our gazes met and held. _What are you doing?_ I silently pleaded with my eyes. He averted his gaze first. What could that mean? That something else had caught his attention, or that his conscience was starting to bother him? Probably the former. I wasn't vain enough to believe I could have made that kind of difference, that I could have led him to feel sorry about what he was about to do, or even about taking me along to watch. I could hope, of course. But it didn't seem to matter, for what good was a conscience if one did not heed it? I turned away, unable to look at him.

A few minutes later the band of men set off. We rode hard for some time, only slowing when we came upon the dirt road leading onto the property of a large plantation. This could be none other than Charlotte Selton's plantation. My warning had come too late. A sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach filled me with the urge to cry. But tears were truly becoming a luxury for me. If I gave in now, Tavington would use it in some way against me. And I was sure it would be more than just a look of disdain. He'd be sure I was a friend of the family, or something stupid like that, and demand I give him some kind of information.

"Is this the one?" Tavington asked Wilkins.

"Yes sir," Wilkins answered.

Tavington kicked his horse into action, the rest of us following suit. I could just imagine what a terrifying sight we must be to those inside the house. What had happened to them? I just couldn't remember, and maybe the books never even covered it. We rode up to the house, and Tavington dismounted first.

"Wilkins, Bordon, come with me. The rest of you surround the house." He turned and looked up at me. I had not dismounted, suddenly unable to move a muscle. "Well what are you waiting for, Miss Hanson? Get down from there and come watch the fun."

His words angered me, pumping energy once again through my body. I dismounted, keeping my glare steady on his face.

"Why did you bring me along?" I demanded. "There is nothing I can do here, and you know it."

He sneered down at me then turned to a dragoon just about to go around the side of the house.

"Watch her. Tie her up if you have to, but do not under any circumstance let her get away, or try to do anything to hold us up."

"Yes sir." The soldier grabbed me by the shoulders and pulled me back. I stood, helpless, and watched as Tavington marched up the steps with Bordon and a Wilkins that looked nothing like my "gentle giant" in toe.

For what seemed like hours, but was probably just minutes, they searched the house. I couldn't have pulled away from my guard if I'd wanted to. There was no fight in me at that moment. Fear–not for myself, but for those inside–made my hands tremble, and I clasped them together in a vain attempt to steady them. By the time Tavington emerged from the house, a frustrated scowl marring his otherwise handsome face, my whole body ached. Tension, of course. I felt it most strongly in my lower back.

Several dragoons had rounded up some slaves, and Tavington stood in front of them, questioning them. Without warning, he raised his pistol and aimed at a fat black man.

"No!" I screamed, but a hand clamped down over my mouth. The shot went off, and the black man yelped, grabbing at his shoulder.

Tavington cursed, glaring over at me, then reloaded his pistol. He said something to Bordon, then turned and strode toward me, his scowl deepening.

"Would you rather I shoot you?" He pointed the pistol at my head. "What are a bunch of black slaves to you?"

I struggled to get my mouth free, but only at a curt nod from Tavington did my captor release me.

"What did you do to the people inside?" I blurted.

"What do you think?" He smirked.

If he shot slaves, who had no choice in who they served, then he likely had done the same to the inhabitants of the house. My eyes filled with the tears I had fought so hard not to show. But they weren't grief. Anger like I had never felt before boiled within me. If I'd had a gun of my own, I might have been tempted to shoot the man standing before me.

"They are human beings. All of them. The colonials you hate so much. The slaves...they have feelings. They love, and they hate. They dream. They probably spend most of their time dreaming of freedom. How can you treat them as animals? Taking away someone's possessions–"

"Enough." He ground the word through half clenched teeth. "I brought you along for a reason. Oh, I know. Right now you probably think I'm just a sadistic monster, and maybe I am. But I wanted you to see what happens to people who commit treason against the crown."

"You mean, people who think differently from you!"

He grabbed me by the shoulders and got down close in my face. "This is what happens to anyone–no exception–who gets in my way." With a brief pause, probably to let his words sink in, he glared at me, his mouth closed in a taut line. Then he went on, speaking in an ominous whisper. "I _will _find the Ghost. Or should I say, Benjamin Martin. And when I find him, there is nothing you or anyone else can do to stop me from killing him." He searched my face, likely for a reaction.

I don't know what he saw, but I worked hard to not let my expression give anything away.

"So now you know his name. But why are you–" My gaze was drawn to the house, which was starting to catch fire as several dragoons threw their torches onto the roof and other strategic areas. I looked back to Tavington. "You are an animal. No, worse. An animal doesn't know what it's doing."

Gun shots went off in the distance, and a horse whinnied. Tavington tore away from me and stared a split second down the road. I, too, looked in the same direction, and saw a man on a bucking horse, shooting into the air. Martin. Had my warning gotten to him, then? Could the people inside have gotten out safely after all?

Tavington's mouth twisted into a leer. "To horse!" he shouted, and ran for his mount.

My guard pushed me toward Shadow. "Come along, Miss Hanson, if you don't wish to be shot as well."

With legs once again like rubber, I made as hasty a mount as possible. The other dragoons rumbled by me, following closely behind their leader. My guard only waited long enough to see that I was in the saddle and had kicked the horse into action, when he, too, bounded after them. I realized at that moment I could have made a run for it. I could have gotten away, and they would not have followed me, too caught up in pursuing the Ghost.

Decisions are funny things. There are those people who know their will so thoroughly that they barely have to think to make up their minds. Then there are others, like me, who have to think things through a while. Usually a long time. On the spot decisions are hard to make, and sometimes when the pressure is off, one realizes he or she should have chosen differently.

I had to make one of those decisions. The thoughts rattled through my mind, all within the time frame of a second. Did I try to escape, to somehow try to find a way back to my own time period? Should I go join Ben Martin and his band? What did I know of fighting? What help could I be to him? Yet, how could I stay with "The Butcher," and possibly lose my heart even further to a man determined to be a monster? My heart was the key, and I suppose I followed it.

The next few minutes passed by in a blur. Even the memory is a blur. I don't remember getting from the burning house to the point where Tavington finally gave up the chase. I came out of my "trance" when I heard Bordon's voice.

"It's no use, sir. He's gotten away again."

With a grudging pull on his reins, Tavington slowed his mount to a halt. For a few seconds he just stared into the night, as if he could somehow will the Ghost back into view. Then, without a word, he turned and motioned us back to camp.

* * *

I couldn't wait to get back to the seclusion of my tent. Maybe if I fell asleep, this night would just finally end. As I pulled aside the flap to enter my quarters, a hand closed around my upper arm.

"Not yet, Miss Hanson." Tavington growled in my ear. I gave him no fight, yet he continued to hold my arm in a painful grip as he pulled me toward his tent.

Inside, he let me go then stepped in front of me. For a few seconds neither of us spoke. We stood, as if in the middle of a high school staring contest, neither one daring to look away first.

"What do you want? I am tired and I would like to try to get some sleep." I felt a sharp pain in the palms of my hands, and realized I had balled my hands into fists so tight my nails had bitten into the soft flesh. I paid it little attention, for the pain in my heart overshadowed any physical hurt.

"Just when I think you have finally understood, you go and pull a stunt like you did today."

"Whatever are you talking about?"

"Did you think I wouldn't find out about your little trip into town? Do you think you can bat your eyelashes and twist men around your little finger?"

He stepped closer, nostrils flaring. Stepping back didn't even cross my mind. I was too angry, and determined to stand up to him no matter the consequences.

"Don't you try to make this about me." I shook my finger under his nose. "I've done nothing wrong the entire time you've held me here. And after tonight, I've begun to realize my first impression of you was correct."

"Is that so?" He gave a bored sigh, but did not take his gaze from me.

"You _are_ a monster. The most horrid creature I've ever–how could you kill innocent people? Women and children?"

"How did you know there were children in that house?"

"An assumption. I saw a doll on the front porch."

"So you are in the habit of making assumptions, are you?" He took another step closer.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"The house was empty. No children. No women. Not even any men."

I snapped my mouth shut, feeling suddenly like a deflated balloon.

"It was rather suspicious. As if...someone tipped them off. But who could have done such a thing?" He spoke in a calm, soft voice, like a slithering serpent, inching ever closer to me. "Certainly not my innocent little captive." He reached out and ran the back of his hand down my cheek. It seemed my legs had suddenly grown roots, and held me steadfast to the spot where I stood. I could feel his warm breath on my face. "I kept asking myself. Who could have known?"

"Then you can count me out," I said, my voice coming out in a hoarse whisper. "I had no idea you were going to go burn those people out of their home tonight."

"Didn't you?" His hand moved to take a lock of my hair. He rolled it between his fingers then let it fall back into place.

"How could I have known?" I only realized I was shaking all over when my voice came out sounding much like a fat opera singer's vibratto. Undaunted, I kept up my tirade. At that moment, it was my only defense against him. "You didn't even know who the Ghost was until this evening. Everyone in the countryside knows the Butcher does just what you made me witness this evening. They were probably just smart, and were one step ahead of you."

"Yes...that's also what I keep telling myself. How could you have known. Unless..." He shook his head. "What did you want in town?"

"That is none of your business. And I wasn't able to get anything anyway, so it doesn't matter."

"It matters to me."

"Why did you take me tonight? What evil possessed you that you put me in that kind of situation?"

"Why shouldn't I? You were in no danger."

I was suddenly overwhelmed with the desire to hurt him. But this time, mentally pulling out his hair just wouldn't cut it. My impulses were working overtime on this particular day, it seemed, for I acted on them once again.

"You have no heart," I said, and pounded my fists against his chest. I doubt very much that it hurt him. I'd never been the type to get into fist fights, so my punches were not very strong nor expertly aimed. "You are cruel, and unkind. And I thought–"

"You thought what?" He grabbed my wrists, twisting my arms behind my back as he pulled me against him in a tight embrace. "You thought you could manipulate me? Poke fun at me, exasperate me to no end, then smile sweetly and all would be forgiven?"

"Let go of me!" I struggled against him, but his arms only tightened further.

"You thought I wouldn't have the courage to take you on a raid...to make you watch the burning of your friends' home. You thought you were going to 'tame the beast', huh? Well, you thought wrong, my dear."

"They weren't my friends. I don't know those people. Now let me go!"

"No." The Judas smile slowly spread across his mouth. "Because you really don't want me to let you go."

"Yes, I do. My skin is crawling at being this close to you!"

Without any further teasing, he pressed his mouth to mine. I continued to struggle to get away, but he held tight. His lips punished mine, forcing them open with their very ferocity.

My head began to spin. Maybe not literally, for I knew I wasn't about to pass out again. Slowly, the fire fizzled out of me. And as I grew more compliant, his kiss grew more gentle. Intoxicating. He filled my senses and it seemed I could do nothing to stop him. Not because he would not stop if I asked it, but worse...I could not bring myself to make him stop. I wanted this. Had wanted it for oh so long. I gave in, allowing the delightful sensations to wash over me. His fingers relaxed on my wrists, allowing me to free them. His arms moved about my waist, and I found mine going about his neck, pulling his head down to mine.

"Laura," He whispered against my ear and hugged me to him. "I've wanted to do that for so long." The sound of his voice, and the strength of his embrace startled me. Not the fact he'd spoken, nor the feel of his arms tightening about me. The quality of his voice...a note of urgency that wasn't moved simply by passion. A sort of pleading. A cry for help? No. I could not think this way. There was no trusting this man. He felt nothing for me that one night of passion wouldn't put an end to.

I pulled away, shaking my head. "This cannot happen."

"Why not? You wanted it too. You responded."

"Yes, yes, but no!" I turned my back to him and covered my face with my hands. "You can't do this to me." I felt his hands rest on my shoulders. For a moment, I fell back against him, relishing the feel of his chest against my back, his arms that encircled me again. The comfort of his chin resting in the crook of my neck...his breath tickling my ear. It felt right...like...

He wasn't capable of love. In my wishful thinking, I'd been wrong. His heart was a stone...cold, hard, unbreakable. A fortress built up through the years of bitterness and a loveless drive for self-perfection. Perfection, of course, in the art of war and cruelty.

I broke free of his embrace once again and turned to face him. Anger deeper than what I'd felt earlier simmered just below the surface of my emotions. I had to be careful, or I might do or say something I'd regret later.

"Now who is manipulating?" I spoke in a clear, calm voice. Control. I had to maintain control. "Don't ever do that again."

Before he could sweet-talk me into falling back into his arms, I rushed out.

* * *

Happy, Liz? grin > 


	17. Chapter 17

Thanks so much to all of you for reviewing. I know the weekends can be tough, but you've stuck with me. :) I had a hard time with this chapter, so I'm sorry for getting it up late today. But...good news...I was able to get a copy of the movie temporarily. Made things a little easier. :)

Disclaimers and all that stuff: I do not own The Patriot or any of the characters. For story sake, I have included in this chapter a few snips of dialogue from the movie. Those words are not original, I do not claim them as my own.They still belong to the movie.

Ok, on with the chapter.

* * *

Chapter 17

At first I thought he might come after me. Deep down, I guess I wanted him to, but I knew it was for the best when he did not. I stormed into my own tent, feeling no real securitythere. He had crossed one line, and I'd allowed it. What would keep him from crossing, or at least trying to cross, one even more important?

I paced the length of my tent until my feet hurt. How could I sleep when all that protected me from that beast was a little bit of canvas?

Only when I finally collapsed on my cot did all my defenses crumble about me. I would not cry over a man like Tavington. He didn't deserve it, and neither did I. I did not love him. Could not. _Would_ not allow myself such a useless emotion.

My lips still burned from his kiss. A shiver ran through me as I relived the scene in my mind. There might be no place in his future for me, but I could not let go of my need to save him. I wanted to. I wanted to run away and put him out of my heart and mind once and for all. But I had to save him, at least of the death in battle inflicted by Benjamin Martin. I certainly could not save his soul, nor could I lead him in the right direction. That had to be his choice.

With a sigh, I rolled onto my side. To my surprise, my eyes grew heavy, and sleep mercifully overtook me.

* * *

The days dragged by. Each night, Tavington would head out with a handful of men to wreak havoc and do what he could to get his Ghost. I did my best to stay out of Tavington's way, and it seemed he, too, did all to avoid me. I'd rather expected him to revert back to accusations and demands for the truth about who I was and who I knew, but whenever our paths did cross, he would simply nod or then give a stiff "Miss Hanson" and walk around me.

Wilkins also seemed to avoid me, and although I couldn't be sure, I thought it had to do with the fact I'd seen him in action that night of the raid. Most of the others simply averted their gazes whenever they passed me, and that was fine with me. But I felt so terribly alone, and wished for something to happen to change my daily drudgery.

I awoke one morning to activity in the camp that looked as if a group was getting ready to move out. I sought Wilkins, determined to make him talk to me.

"What's going on?" I asked when I found him filling his saddle bag with a couple days worth of rations.

He turned, but would not look at me, having suddenly become exceptionally interested in a patch of grass at his feet. "We are going–uh–just going around."

"Still trying to find your Ghost, huh?"

"Something like that." He mumbled, his entire body tensing, as if he couldn't wait to get away from me.

I wasn't about to back down. Somewhere deep down, I think I wanted to punish him. Maybe because with him, I knew I could. The one I really wanted to punish was Tavington, but for now, Wilkins would have to do.

"How can you do it, Wilkins?" I blurted. "How can you turn your back on your neighbors and–friends? Do you even have any of those left? How can you choose a king you've never seen, who doesn't care about you but only the money you and your true countrymen can put into his coffers, over those people you've grown up with?"

"Miss Hanson–"

"Don't Miss Hanson me." I glared at him when he finally looked up. "I thought we'd gotten past that formality. How can you be a part of this? This is not regular battle. Your colonel fusses about how Martin fights dirty. Well, I don't see much difference between shooting officers in combat, and burning down the homes of innocent civilians. No, actually. I do. I think attacking innocents is worse."

"Don't talk like that." Wilkins scowled. "I won't have it."

"Won't you?" I stepped up to him, hands on my hips. "How far will you go to shut me up?"

His jaw twitched, his eyes blazed. "Don't push me, Laura, and don't try to make me feel guilty. I am no less a patriot for defending those in authority of me. Over you. And those people–" He pulled himself up straight and went on, as if reciting a line he'd memorized. "All those who stand against England deserve to die a traitor's death."

I snorted a laugh. "Is that what you spouted off to Tavington so he'd let you into his little boy's horse club?" I shook my head. "You disgust me. More so than Tavington. At least he _is_ English. But you–" Without finishing, I turned and walked away.

"Don't you want to know where we're going?" He called after me.

So he knew a little about the rules of emotional manipulation as well. I stopped, and turned slowly to face him.

"Ok, tell me. Where are you going?" I spoke with a bored intonation I had to work hard to force.

"To your precious village. To talk to the people there and see if we can find out where Martin and his men hide out." He smirked down at me, looking much like a big bully who'd just taken a piece of candy away from a child. Somehow, he must have thought that dangling that bit of information in front of me would frustrate me. Well, two could always play the same game.

I smiled innocently. "Think I can go with you?"

Wilkins' face twisted into a you-can't-be-serious expression. "I certainly do _not_ think you may go. After the other night–"

"Yeah, yeah. I know. Tavington has found a new form of torture. Death by boredom." With a sigh of frustration, I nodded then walked away. So I'd lost the only "friend" I thought I had. Good riddance, I tried to convince myself. For the thousandth time, at least, I mentally beat myself up for not having taken the chance to get away when I had it. Who knew when another opportunity like that would come up?

The men looked as if they were making ready for an excursion that would last more than one day. Each horse was equipped withbedrolls and extra rations. What exactly were they up to? My heartbeat accelerated. Was this the day Tavington would burn the church? Late summer...early fall...it seemed about the right time. Oh boy. How could I stop it? I had to think fast, and move carefully.

I wandered through the camp, hoping it looked as if I was roaming aimlessly. Here and there I caught a few words about the upcoming raid. It seemed Tavington was being secretive about his plans. A sick churning in my stomach pushed a lump up into my throat. So he was going to carry it out after all. Could I have acted any differently, to make him more of a human being? Once again, the "what ifs" and "maybes" were about to drive me crazy if I let them. I couldn't go back, but I could certainly move forward.

After thinking through several flight plans, I hurried back to my tent and changed into the dress. Seeing me in the dress always seemed to do something to Tavington. I grabbed my jeans and one of the underskirts. Then, whistling a cheerful tune, I headed for the stream as if to wash out some clothes. But before I got too far, Tavington caught up with me.

"Where do you think you're going, Miss Hanson?"

"To the stream. To wash." I raised my eyebrows questioningly while lifting the clothes hanging over my arm. "May I?"

"Don't wander too far. We will be off soon, and I would rather know you are still safely in place when I leave."

"Yes, sir. I shouldn't be too long."

He hesitated, as if he wanted to say something more. I waited, my heart crying out for him to say anything to put my mind at ease.

"Very well. Carry on." He nodded, then headed back toward his tent.

With a sigh, I stepped into the woods.

Once I was away from prying eyes, I removed the rest of the under skirts and slipped my jeans back on under the dress. I counted to ten, then plunged my head into the water, being as careful as possible to not get too wet. With a shiver, I stood back up and combed out my wet hair. As an afterthought, I dunkedthe underskirts into the water, rung them out, then headed back to camp.

Shadow was tethered near a tree where I always hung my clothes to dry. I headed in that direction, taking care to keep a lightness in my step. No one could see by my demeanor that anything was amiss. As soon as I arrived at the tree, I hung the skirts, and then turned to Shadow, talking to him and patting his neck.

"Do you make a habit of talking to animals?"

At the sound of the voice, I glanced up over Shadow's head to see Wilkinsapproaching.

"He's my only friend." I shrugged, then turned my attention back to the horse.

"Please, Laura–"

"Captain Wilkins, I would rather be alone right now."

A frown flickered across his forehead and something akin to sadness filled his eyes.

"I'm sorry. I wish I could–"

"Captain Wilkins!" Tavington's voice sliced through the air, making me wince."Why aren't you with your horse?"

I glanced in the colonel's direction, noticing a frown of disapproval on his face. For once, it did not seem directed at me, but at Wilkins.

"You better go. Your superior is calling."

Wilkins looked torn for a moment. He glanced back at Tavington, then returned his gaze to me. "Don't hate me, Laura. I am a man of honor. It's just that you and I have obviously chosen opposite sides."

With that, he turned and jogged off toward his horse. Tavington seemed to be watching us. His gaze followed Wilkins as the captain moved past him. I stood in place, not quite sure what to make of the exchange. But then I felt that cold stare on me once again. He wasn't–no, it couldn't be. One had to feel something other than hatred or disdain to allow room for anything like jealousy. It was simply impatience.

The dragoons all mounted their horses, then headed out. I stepped in front of Shadow and watched as they trotted past me. Tavington turned his head, and for a moment, our eyes met...and held. _Don't do it_, I pleaded silently. That stare, so cold and empty of emotion, was no different, no softer from the first time I'd ever seen it. I had done nothing whatsoever to change him. He looked forward once again, then kicked his mount into a canter. I watched them ride away, my heart heavy.Sighing, I turned back to Shadow, needing another moment to think.

They would be taking the main road. I might have a chance to make it before they carried out their deadly deeds if I cut across country. I knew the general direction of the village, and trusted I could find my way. Praying for guidance, and a chance to get away, I watched the men who'd remained, and they, in turn, watched me like hawks. Sighing loudly, for anyone about me to hear, I returned to my tent.

I had to have some kind of a distraction. There was no other way. But what? My eyes lighted on the lantern. I grabbed it, and quickly lit the wick. Drawing a deep breath, I fought with the back of my tent until I managed to crawl out. As quietly as possible, I slunk into the bushes.

"Environmentalists would have my head," I muttered as I picked up a dry stick and held it in the flame until it caught fire. I threw it into a small clump of bushes, then ran back to my tent, scrambling inside through the back.

It took a few minutes, but soon there were shouts and the sounds of men running. I stuck my head outside, blinking, trying to look like I'd been asleep and had been disturbed by the noise.

"Grab some buckets!" The dragoon left in charge of the camp yelled. Several men hurried toward the stream.

When it seemed sure all attention was riveted to the fire being put out, I made a mad dash for Shadow. I would have to ride bare back, for there was no time to saddle him. I grabbed the rope used to tie him, and sprung up onto his back. I must have had unseen help. More than adrenaline helped me to jump up so easily, for I wasn't a very tall person. Holding the rope, and tightening my arms about Shadow's neck, I kicked him into action.

During the months I'd been here in the 1770s, Shadow and I had come to an understanding. He now recognized me as the one in charge, and on this particular day, I believe he must have sensed my urgency. As if he could read my mind, he moved at full speed.

I didn't look back. Once they realized I'd made a run for it, they would come after me. But I could not slow my progress by looking over my shoulder.

I rode down the road for a way, but at the first bend, I maneuvered Shadow off and into the woods. This might help keep me hidden from those who would be on my tail. We continued at a hard gallop, barely missing trees as we plunged into the safety of the woods. I finallyslowed Shadow enough that I could look behind me. No one had followed me into the woods, but I could hear the sound of horses' hooves on the road. I didn't wait to see if they followed me into the woods.

We made a clearing, then rushed over hills. It seemed hours when I met the road once again. I looked in both directions, and seeing it clear, rushed along toward the village. Just ahead of me, a wagon with three people was just riding into town. No smoke rose into the sky, so I wasn't too late. I pulled Shadow off to the side, tied him to a tree, and snuck on foot toward the church.

The dragoons were all lined up in front of the church with a number of foot soldiers patrolling the area as well. A steady stream of civilians made their way into the church. I watched as Wilkins rode up to the arriving wagon and spoke to the people in it.

I picked up the skirt of my dress, and ran as those last three, which I finally realized were Anne Howard and her parents, filed into the church.

"They are all inside, sir," Wilkins said to Tavington.

"Very well." Tavington smirked at Wilkins, then rode right into the church.

"The beast," I muttered. "He has no respect for anything."

I panted as I ran up to the front of the church. Wilkins' eyes grew wide when he saw me, and he slid to the ground.

"What are you doing here?" He growled as he caught up to me and grabbed me by the arm.

"He's going to burn it. I can't let him."

"Of course he is. He always burns their homes. But they can rebuild."

I looked deep into his eyes. He wasn't Tavington, and there was a hint of innocence there that informed me he did not know what his superior truly intended.

"Oh, Wilkins." I shook my head, then twisted my arm free and brushed past him.

"Very well, you've had your chance." Tavington was saying to the very frightened looking village folk inside the church. He made as if to leave, when suddenly a fat man from the back of the church called out.

"Wait!" He pushed his way through the crowd to the front, then turned to Mr. Howard. "This man gives Martin and his men supplies."

"Quiet!" snapped Mr. Howard.

"He brings them to Black Swamp."

"He's a liar!" Anne yelled, drowning outher father's curse.

Blood pounded through my head, the sound filling my ears so that I did not hear the rest of the exchange. And then I heard Tavington.

"Thank you very much," he said in his silky voice. Then slowly, he replaced his helmet. "Shut the doors."

As he turned to leave, he saw me. The smirk that had been on his lips vanished, and his bottom jaw dropped open. His eyes bore into me. Any pride that might have remained in me melted away. I'd show him fear, submission. Whatever he wanted to see, if only he would desist from what he was about to do. Neither of us spoke a word. A whole conversation passed between us without a sound. _Please! Don't do it!_ I cried, allowing the tears that had sprung to my eyes to spill and roll down my cheeks.

In his eyes I saw indecision. Hope welled within me. I took a step toward him, about to utter his name. The line between his eyes deepened for a split second. Then he drew his lips together in a taut line.He raised his head, arching a single eyebrow, then rode out.

"But–you said we'd be forgiven," the fat man who'd given the information cried.

I looked up at the man I still believed I loved, and backed my way into the crowd.

Tavington turned, smirking at the informant.

"And indeed you may." He then turned his icy gaze to me. "But that's between you and God."

Wilkins pushed inside and ran toward me.

"Laura, this is ridiculous. Come on out of there." He spoke with a note of impatience in his voice, but no alarm. He still had no idea.

I raised my head and took a deep breath. "I'll take my place right here, thank you very much. I don't consort with traitors." My lips quivered, and a fresh crop of tears rolled down my cheeks.

"Captain Wilkins!" Tavington snapped.

Wilkins frowned, then let out a frustrated sigh and hurried out.

Two foot soldiers proceeded to close the doors. The last thing I saw was Tavington's face, a faint look of regret in his eyes before he turned his horse away.

Voices rumbled all about me, but I paid them little attention. I kept staring at the doors, hoping he would relent. I felt a hand on my shoulder, and turned.

Anne looked at me, her eyes wide. "You know what he's going to do."

"Yes," I said, my voice coming out more like a sob. Even as I spoke, the shutters were closed on the windows, darkening the interior. I heard a chain rattle at the door, and the click of a padlock.

So this was all I meant to him.


	18. Chapter 18

Thanks so much for the enthusiastic reactions to the last chapter. :) It was a hard chapter to write, for some reason. Anyway, here you go. Just...don't hate me for not sticking to the original. This is MY version. (grin)

Disclaimer: I don't own The Patriot or any of its characters.

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Chapter 18

I watched in horror as a puff of smoke slid under the doors and billowed upward. Cries and panic ensued. I moved as in slow motion, turning around and looking at all of those people I'd set out to save. Anne turned to her mother, sobbing, while Mrs. Howard spoke words that must have been meant to comfort, but had no effect. I'd done them no good, and now it seemed I would pay with my life as well.

The shutters at the back of the church were closed, cutting off most of the light. And that's when I saw a glimmer of hope. Daylight continued to shine in from one window.

"Over there!" I ran to the open window. "Smash out the glass."

Several men followed, grabbing whatever they could and throwing or thrusting it with force against the window. Another couple of men pulled up a pew. As the glass shattered, they ran at the window frame, using the pew much like a battering ram. The wooden bench went through, taking the entire frame with it, and splintering into what looked like a pile of kindling outside.

I glanced back at the sanctuary. Smoke spewed into the building with alarming speed, and flames ate through the roof. If we didn't hurry, we'd all die of asphyxiation.

"Hurry! Pile out!" I yelled.

"Keep calm, people," Mr. Howard called above the din, as bodies pushed and shoved to get to the opening. "We don't need to trample anyone."

Two men jumped outside. The children were handed out first, then the women. I couldn't help looking back at the doors. The hope in my heart just would not die. And then I heard a sound that was more beautiful to my ears than Beethoven's fifth. A gun shot.Chains crashing to the ground. I held my breath. The doors flew open, and a shape in red and green filled the opening.

"Laura!" Wilkins burst through the smoke, then stopped as he saw the people filing out the window. Relief twisted into a brief smile on his face. "Come on." He took off his coat and wrapped it around me as flames took over a side wall and part of the roof. "It's going to collapse."

"I can't. I have to see that they all make it all right."

With an impatient grunt, he grabbed me and threw me over his shoulder. "Must you always be so stubborn?"

"Wilkins, you big lug, put me down!"

Only when we were safely outside, did he set me back on my feet.

"How did you know?" He gazed at me quizzically. "How could you have known he would do that? I've been with him all this time, and I never–"

"Why did you come back?"

He looked down and rubbed the back of his neck. "I couldn't–you didn't deserve–I just couldn't let a friend die like that."

"Does Tavington know?"

He hesitated, then shook his head. "No. Well, maybe. But he had already taken off."

Without thinking, I hugged him. "Thank you."

Several people had run out the front door, and they now turned angry stares on Wilkins.

"You'd better go, James." I removed his coat and handed it back to him. "I'll be fine. You've done a good thing. But go on."

He nodded, pulling on the coat, then without another word, rushed to his horse and took off.

I ran around to the back of the church. A number of people coughed and spluttered. Most of the women were crying, especially those with children. Anne stood with her parents, hugging them, while her mother repeated over and over, "Thank you, Lord. Thank you Lord." The men mostly cursed, vowing revenge on Tavington and his "Green Buffoons."

"Is everyone out?" I called.

The crying and cursing stopped suddenly, and all heads turned my way.

"Who are you, young lady?" The man who I'd talked to that day in the church came forward. "It has been some time since you walked into the church and spoke with me. So how could you have known?"

"I really can't explain it, so I won't even try."

The parson began to chuckle. "I thought I was crazy. Well, first I thought _you_ were crazy, and I was even crazier for listening to you. But I figured, what would it hurt? I took the shutters off that window...just in case."

I smiled, glad to know at least something I'd done had helped. But I sobered quickly. "He'll be back. You people aren't safe. And now he knows where to find the Ghost. Go somewhere where he won't even think to look for you. Just lay low for awhile."

Anne came forward. "But what about our men? Someone must get word to them."

"Don't worry about them. They'll be fine. Right now, you must get away." I paused a moment, offering her a smile. "May I be so bold as to ask, are you now Mrs. Gabriel Martin?"

She blushed and a shy smile spread across her lips. "Yes. We were just married."

"Congratulations. May you have many happy years together with your husband."

As the villagers talked among themselves and decided where to go, I quietly slipped away. I might not have managed to make a difference in Tavington's life, but at least I had helped the people in the church. However, I had changed history, and what came next hadn't been written in any books I'd ever read. Now I was completely on my own.

I ran back to where I'd tied Shadow, and pulled myself up onto his back. "Let's go, boy." I turned him in the direction I'd seen Wilkins go. Maybe I'd have a chance to catch up with the dragoons. But even as I pondered this, I knew I could not. If I reached them and Tavington saw that I was alive, he would know the others had gotten out as well. I could not join him before the townsfolk had a chance to get away. I slowed Shadow to a walk. Where could I go? Back to camp? Not my favorite option, for the dragoons who'd come after me when I escaped would likely chain me up somewhere until Tavington got back. And who knew how long until he returned. I could stay in town until everyone had gotten away, but then I might be asked questions I could not answer. There was only one logical course of action.

I rode slowly, not even kicking Shadow into a trot as I headed back to camp. Nothing waited for me there, but more long, lonely days. As the adrenaline of the past few hours drained out of me, so did my energy. I slumped forward on Shadow's neck, barely able to hold on. I had to get down, or I would fall off.

"Whoa, boy. Let me get off." I leanedto the side and slid off, managingto land on my feet. But as I dragged myself across the grassy hill, I knew I would not make it far. I found the shelter of a large tree, and collapsed. Exhaustion overtook me, and I drifted off to sleep.

I awoke just before sunrise. My back ached, and my hip felt like it might be bruised. I dragged myself to my feet, and stretched, looking around. Shadow stood a few feet away, still as a stone carving.

"Hey boy." My throat felt like sandpaper, and it was hard to swallow. No doubt, the smoke. I stumbled toward the horse, and took hold of his rope. But I had no energy in me to pull myself up onto his back. I led him back to my tree, tied him, then dropped to the ground again.

This time I did not sleep. I looked up through the leaves, watching as, one by one,the twinkling stars began to disappear. Slowly, the sky brightened. And as it brightened, my mood darkened.

What was I doing here? I had to find a way to go home. But how? I had no idea how I'd gotten here in the first place, so how could I know to get back? I had to think of what I would do if I never did get home. A million things ran through my mind, but hard as I tried, I could not keep the thought truly bugging me from invading my thoughts.

He'd left me to die. Knew I was in there, and still ordered his men to fire the church. A tell-tale sting in my eyes and nose signaled another bout of tears. I had vowed not to cry over Tavington, but this time I was too tired to fight. I rolled onto my stomach, pillowing my head with my arms, and let the tears flow freely. And all the while, I kept asking myself, why? Why did I still feel the need to find him, to be near him, when he had shown me clearly that I meant nothing to him? If I believed in magic, I might think a love spell had been cast on me. There was nothing logical in these feelings. I'd heard all my life that love was blind, but I now discovered that couldn't be farther from the truth. Love saw, and still loved.

Somewhere along the way, I had fallen in love with the monster, and it would not be over night that I would be able to get over it. Ever the optimist, I still believed he could change. There had to be even a spark of goodness in him somewhere, something I could latch onto and help him to see the error of his ways. My tears dried, and I determined to keep going. I would see this through until the end, whatever the end might be. I had a goal, and I would achieve it, or die trying.

The sun had fully risen, and I found a little of my strength restored. Not much, for I had not eaten anything since lunch the previous day.

I stumbled to my feet, then went into the woods in search of a possible stream. A little water to wash my face might help. And a drink to clear my parched throat. Eventually I gave up my search and staggered back to Shadow. The best thing to do was to ride back to the town and try to clean up and find something there to eat. I expected to find it a ghost town anyway.

Spurred on by this thought, I mounted Shadow and set back toward the town. As I rode up the main road, I noticed a flurry of activity. Men ran in and out of the houses, shouting. A dark haired man who looked to be somewhere in his fifties stood in front of the church, staring at the charred remains. I wondered if he could be Benjamin Martin. As I approached him, it seemed no one even saw me...too preoccupied with finding their loved ones.

"Mr. Martin?" I asked tentatively.

He turned and looked up at me. Deep sorrow filled his blue eyes, and deepenedthe lines about his face.

"Yes?"

I slid to the ground and walked toward him.

"Please, don't be sad. The church is gone, but your families are safe. They made it out a back window."

Relief washed over his features, and brought a sparkle to his eyes.

"Are you sure?"

I nodded, smiling. "I was in there with them." I held up my arm and the sleeve of my dress to his nose. "Just take a whiff. It smells pretty smokey."

"Thank you." He grabbed me by the shoulders and gave me a warm squeeze. "Whoever you are, thank you." He turned and shouted. "Did you hear that? She said they all made it–" The glee drained from his face, and fear replaced it. "Where's Gabriel?"

"Oh no." I gasped and looked back to the roadwhere a handfulof men galloped away at top speed.

"He's gone after Tavington." Ben cursed then rushed to his horse. All the others did the same, including me.

How they knew were to go, I had no idea. But I followed along behind them. We sped past abuilding in flames. A tavern, apparently, butI paid it no more heed as we shot on.

Stupid, hot-headed boy! Why couldn't he have waited for everyone else? Then he would have known Anne was all right. If we got there in time to save him, I might ring his neck myself.

We rode over a hill. Too late. Gabriel had just dismounted and ran toward the small camp of dragoons. Tavington, hair wet and hanging down around his shoulders, ran toward his horse and grabbed his pistol.

"Gabriel, no!" I screamed as loudly as I could. "She's all right!"

Of course, the young man did not hear me. Or if he did, he ignored me. He rammed forward with a ferocity driven by grief and hatred.

Guns went off all around. Several dragoons fell. Several colonials fell.

I slid from my horse and ran.

"Retreat, you fools! Your families are alive!" A few more shots went off. Gabriel turned as if to look back, then suddenly jerked to the side. He fell to the ground, grabbing his shoulder.

I looked to where Tavington stood, a smirk on his face, aiming his pistol for another shot at Gabriel.

"No!" I yelled, and I think that was the first time he saw me. His eyes grew wide, and the hand holding the pistol slowly moved downward.

"Hold your fire!" Another shot went off even as he yelled. His eyes grew wide and he grabbed at his middle. For a moment he just stood there, looking shocked that he'd actually been hit, then he slumped to the ground.

Every muscle in my body tensed. _No! This isn't how it happened,_ my mind screamed. I had to get to him. It couldn't end this way.

Ben Martin's men rushed forward, muskets aimed at the dragoons who now stood in stunned silence, most gazing at their fallen commander.

"Please." I turned to Martin. "Hold you fire. At least for today, stop the killing."

"Hold your fire, lads," Martin called without taking his gaze off me. "You're the girl that's been riding with them."

I nodded, looking away from the intensity of his stare. "Yes."

He placed a hand full of callouses under my chin and lifted my face. "I don't know who you are. I don't know why a young woman like you, who seems to be of good colonial stock, would be riding with Tavington. But thank you. We've heard of you and what you have tried to do." He smiled and let his hand fall back to his side.

"Mr. Martin, take your boy and go home. Forget this fight. The French will be here soon, and America will win the war. But...just leave. And–forget about Tavington." Martin continued to study me silently. "I'm sorry he took the life of your son, but–"

"You're in love with him."

I nodded, heat rising to my cheeks. Hearing those words come out of the mouth of the Ghost himself made me realize just how nonsensical this was. How could I love him? Yet I did. It made no more sense than the fact I'd traveled back in time. Impossible. Ridiculous. Yet it had happened.

"Go in peace." Ben nodded, then raised his hand, ordering his men to retreat.

"God bless you, Benjamin Martin, and God bless America." With that I turned and ran toward the band of dragoons.

Several colonials hoisted Gabriel up from the ground and rushed him off toward a horse.

"Thank you," he croaked as I rushed past.

"Just stay alive, and live many happy years with Anne," I said without stopping.

The Americans mounted their horses and retreated back over the hill. But at that moment, all I could think was getting to Tavington...William.

"Don't you die on me." I dropped to the ground beside his still form. "Not now. You can't do this."

His eyes opened slowly and seemed to take awhile to focus. But when they did, I knew he saw me.

"Laura–how–?"

"Sh. Don't waste your energy speaking. Just stay with me." I took his hand and squeezed. "Stay with me. Look into my eyes. Hold on." He struggled a moment, but then his eyes began to close again.

I looked to a red spot growing ever larger on his once white shirt. Without thinking, I grabbed the shirt and tore it away to get a look at the wound. But I was no doctor, and I could not tell how bad it was.

"Stand back, Miss Hanson," Captain Bordon ordered, then bent over Tavington. His brow furrowed as he inspected the damage. "He's losing blood fast. We must get him to the doctor immediately."


	19. Chapter 19

Thanks, as always, for all the reviews. Y'all are just great. So here goes the next. :)

Disclaimers: I don't own The Patriot or any of its characters. Wish I did, then maybe I could do something with this story. (grin)

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Chapter 19

I paced back and forth in front of the surgeon's tent. What I'd read about medicine at this time period did not inspire much confidence. Many surgeons were butchers, hacking off limbs, doing a poor job at disinfecting wounds...if they even knew to disinfect. In Tavington's case, it wasn't a limb. He'd taken a bullet in his gut, and I feared even more for his life.

Wilkins sat at a distance, watching the tent as well. I think all the dragoons were nervous, for the camp was hushed.

I'd force-fed myself a little food, knowing my body needed the nourishment. But my stomach was so in knots I thought it might just come back out.

"Hanson, would you care to sit a bit?" Bordon stepped in my way for a second. "You're making me nervous with your constant pacing."

Was that a note of friendliness in the snob's voice?

"I'm sorry. I can't. Not until–"

Just then the tent flap opened, and out stepped the doctor. My heart seemed to skip a beat. I wanted to deluge the doctor with questions, but my tongue seemed glued to the roof of my mouth.

"Well, Doc?" Wilkins rushed over, his face creased in worry.

"He's very weak. Lost a considerable amount of blood,but I think he'll pull through."

I blew out a sigh of relief. "Can he have any visitors?"

The doctor gave me a hard stare. "You?"

I nodded. "Yes. I want to see him."

"At the moment, he is sleeping. He shouldn't be angered, and I'm afraid your very presence will have the man agitated and nervous."

"Come, now, Doc. You can't mean that." Wilkins growled. "She's probably the only reason he's still alive."

A gross exaggeration, of course, but my heart warmed at Wilkins' attempt to defend me.

"Very well. Maybe later. But for now, let him rest."

I went back to my own tent and grabbed a clean shirt and one of the underskirts. I needed a bath, and nothing would have felt better at that moment than a long, hot soak in a tub. With a sigh, I headed out and down to the stream. The icy water would have to do.

As I dipped beneath the surface of the water, the current seemed to wash away more than the dirt and grime on my body. A little of my anxiety washed away as well. Maybe there was hope yet. He'd called the cease-fire when he saw me. He'd even called me by my first name...as if...

I shook my head, getting an earful of water in the process. I couldn't think this way. Too much had happened for me to pin my hopes on such feeble demonstrations of...of what? Nothing truly indicative of love.

I resigned myself to the fact that a man like Tavington would never truly love, at least not a woman like me. I would have to be satisfied with my own feelings, do what I could for him, and leave it at that. After all, was that not the measure of true love? That it could love and do for the object of one's affections, even when there was no love returned? If he made it through the Battle of Cowpens, I would stick around until the end of the war, but then I'd be free of this silly, self-imposed obligation. Free...to do what? To go where?

I finished my bathing, dressed, and headed back to the camp. Almost as soon as I emerged from the woods, Bordon rushed toward me.

"Good, you've returned. Colonel Tavington is calling for you."

"For me?"

Bordon nodded, then pointed in the direction of the tent. "You know the colonel. He's not a very patient man, so you might want to hurry. And remember, he's not to be agitated." The ghost of a grin played at the corners of the captain's mouth.

"What is it you find so humorous?" I asked with a humph.

"Was I laughing?"

"You're trying hard not to."

He chuckled to himself and shook his head. "It's nothing, really. I've just never seen him quite so-er-agitated by a woman."

We had arrived at the medical tent, and I stood at the entrance, suddenly unable to move another step. I was about to face him for the first time since the church. The first time for real, for those minutes when I'd held his hand and begged him to hang on did not count. He would likely be back to his ornery old self. Or maybe worse, since now he'd be extra grouchy for having to deal with a painful battle wound.

"Are you going to stand here all day?" Bordon snapped. "Go on, then."

I swallowed hard, then lifted my legs which felt made of lead, and stepped inside.

Tavington lay on a cot with a blanket pulled up to his waist. His face looked almost...peaceful. I'd never seen such a look on his face. Before I could stop myself, I reached for one of his hands, lying so still at his side. I raised it to my lips just as he opened his eyes.

"Miss Hanson, shame on you." He croaked, and a weak smile spread his lips.

"Shame on me for what?" I whispered.

"For trying to take advantage of me when I'm...indisposed."

I laughed despite myself. "Don't flatter yourself."

He closed his eyes again, and at first I thought he'd drifted back to sleep. I was about to lay his hand back down and slip out, but as I tried to release it, his fingers tightened ever so lightly around mine.

"Don't go." Again he opened his eyes and fixed them on me.

"You need to rest, so you can recover. I'm not going anywhere. I'll be here when you're well enough to spar words with me again."

He gurgled what was meant to be a chuckle, then grimaced. "Don't make me laugh. It hurts."

"You deserve to hurt. But we'll talk about that later. Concentrate on getting well, ok?"

"I-I'm going to get better."

"Of course you are. The doctor said–"

"No." Again he closed his eyes. Every word was obviously an effort. I remained silent, waiting...He seemed to want to say something more.

I gazed over his face, then using my free hand, ran my fingers through his hair. "Take your time," I whispered. "I'll be right here."

He nodded, and his hand relaxed in mine. "I'm sorry."

What was the hearing equivalent to a hallucination? I wondered. At least the voice I heard came from a real person, but I did not believe I had heard what my mind registered. Exhaustion, no doubt, was making me hear odd things. Colonel Tavington, The Butcher...he had _not_ just said the words, I'm sorry.

"Did you hear me?" he croaked, pulling me out of my thoughts.

"Oh, uh, what exactly did you say?" I bent my head closer to his mouth.

"I'm sorry, Laura. I've never been more–"

"Hush." I placed my hand over his mouth. "That's the morphine is talking, now. You just give in to that delightful fuzziness in your brain and sleep."

And when you wake and are back to your normal, cocky self, we'll talk.

I stood there a few more minutes, holding his hand, until his breathing deepened and he began to snore lightly. As gently as possible, I peeled his hand from mine, and stepped outside.

"Well?" Wilkins bounded up to me.

"Well what?" I yawned, suddenly feeling all the effects of lack of sleep.

"Is he all right?"

I shook my head, and turned to my tent.

"No?" Wilkins bounded after me. "What do you mean, no?"

"Something is dreadfully wrong." I glanced up at Wilkins and noticed his face pale. "Oh, don't worry. He'll recover."

"Then what do you mean?"

I sighed. "He said he was sorry." I shrugged, then ducked into my tent before Wilkins could question me further.

* * *

I was right. Days later, when Tavington began to recover his strength, he became more unbearable than before. At least he gave his captains a hard time. I tried to stay away, claiming doctor's orders, but every day, he asked for me. And, obediently, I went.

For the first three days, the doctor filled him with morphine, keeping him sedated. I wasn't sure if the doc did it for Tavington's sake, or for his own. During those days, I spent a lot of time in the tent, by his side. Mostly I sat by his bed, in a chair the doctor grudgingly allowed to be put there, and held his hand while he slept.

He did not repeat his apology. Not verbally, but I saw it in his eyes every time he looked at me. As the days passed, and he was weaned off the morphine, I did my best to remain cheerful but distant. I talked about the weather, how his pallor looked better, asked him questions about how he felt. And every time he tried to be serious, I would crack a joke or say something glib. I think this frustrated him, but surprisingly, he didn't complain. Rather, he'd let out a loud, dramatic sigh and pucker his lips into the cutest little pout, which was always my cue to leave.

It was during one such exchange that I noticed his strength had begun to return. I was trying to feed him a little gruel, but he was being stubborn and refusing to eat.

"Miss Hanson, have you tasted that?" He growled.

"Oh come on. It's not that bad." I smiled sweetly and pushed the spoon closer to his mouth. "You need to eat something. It'll help you to heal."

"Very well. If you insist. But I can do this myself." He glared at me then grabbed the spoon from my hand.

"I can see you're well on the road to recovery." I turned my back only long enough to pull my chair closer to the bed. As I straightened, I felt an arm go about my waist, and another about my neck, pulling me backward. "What are you–" A spoon full of gruel was stuffed into my open mouth.

"Have a little something to eat, my dear." That silky voice, so close to my ear, sent a tremor through me. I reached up and took the spoon, still hanging from my mouth, then swallowed.

"That was delicious. But you need to eat it yourself." I worked hard to keep my voice from trembling, but I wasn't exactly successful. I peeled Tavington's arms from about me, then turned to face him. He was sitting up on the cot, grinning at me. "That was a very naughty thing to do." I pointed at him with the spoon.

"Admit it. You loved it." He arched an eyebrow, daring me to contradict him.

"You should not be pulling stunts like that in your condition. You could tear open that wound all over again." I shook my head as if scolding a naughty schoolboy.

"I can't seem to get you to be serious, so I figured that was the best way to get your attention." All the playfulness vanished from his face. Slowly, he pushed himself off of the cot.

"You shouldn't do that. The doctor will have my head if–"

"He'll only have your head if I allow it." Tavington was now standing. He took a wobbly step toward me. I could see I had the advantage, for he was still in a weakened condition.

"You'd better get back in bed." I rushed forward as he stumbled, and instantly found his arms about me, pulling me to him. "What are you doing? Colonel–"

"William. Say it." He took my face in his hands and lifted it so I was looking up at him.

"This is insanity, _William_. You need your rest. You're not Superman, you know."

"It is so endearing when you talk such nonsense." He dipped his head, and only when his lips closed over mine, did he release my face, wrapping his arms about me again. I didn't fight him. There was a measure of security in the fact he was still wounded, and the fact that the doctor or even one of the captains could walk in at any minute. What harm could one little kiss do? I moved my arms about him, yet carefully to not hurt him. "That's much better," he whispered against my ear. His arms tightened about me and he found my lips once again. He kissed me with an urgency that frightened me. Yet I could not pull away.

"_Colonel _Tavington!" boomed the doctor behind us.

My eyes flew open and I tried to pull away, but Tavington held on tightly.

"What is it, Doctor?" Tavington snapped without taking his gaze from me.

"You're in no condition for this kind of behavior."

"Am I not?" Only then did he release me.

I turned to face the doctor, who, by the scowl on his face, wanted to strangle _me_.

"And you, Miss Hanson." He pointed his thick finger at me. "I thought I told you he was not to be agitated."

"Oh, come now, Doctor. I'm not in the least agitated." Tavington grabbed my hand, pulling me to his side, a half grin on his lips clearly meant to irritate the doctor. "Miss Hanson was actually being quite...comforting."

"Indeed." The doctor threw us both an angry glare, then mumbling to himself, walked back outside.

"Now, where were we?" Tavington grinned fully and pulled me toward him again.

"Don't you think you should rest, now?" I tried to push his arms away, but he would not be deterred.

"I think you are trying to run from me...again."

"Why would I try such a silly thing?" I forced a laugh. "You can't do anything to me in your weakened condition."

He yanked me forward and tightened his grip about my waist. "You talk too much, woman."

Then once again, he claimed my lips.


	20. Chapter 20

My dear, dear readers and reviewers, I'm sorry for not getting this up this morning. :) My "real" life got in the way. Imagine that! But here goes. It's short and sweet (well, maybe not so sweet), but I'm working on 21.

Thanks for the reviews. :) Y'all make my day, although I'm becoming addicted to checking my email now.

Disclaimers: I do not own The Patriot or any of its characters. Just enjoying messing around with this. :)

* * *

Chapter 20

When I pulled away from Tavington enough to look into his face, I frowned. "You look a little flushed." I placed my hand against his forehead.

He ignored me, taking my hand in his and holding it against his heart. "Why did you come back? After–"

"You really need to get back in bed." I pulled my hand away and urged him toward the cot. "You've had more than enough excitement for one day." For once, I found him compliant. "No more getting out of bed until the doctor says you may." I pulled the blanket up to his waist and began to tuck it tightly under the thin mattress. As I did, he twisted his fingers about my wrist, pulling me downward so that I almost fell forward onto the cot.

"You can't avoid talking to me forever."

"There is nothing to talk about." I mentally kicked myself for the softness of my voice.

"I think there is." He pleaded silently, staring deep into my eyes for a couple of seconds before he released my wrist. "Please, sit with me a little longer."

I smiled and nodded. "Just a little while. You need to rest."

"Yes, you've mentioned that a time or two." He rolled his eyes then fixed them on me once again.

"Go ahead, then. Talk if you must." My insides seemed to turn to Jell-o at his intense perusal. How could I face him when I had just given in so easily to his kiss? Certainly he had sensed all the love in my heart for him.

"Promise me you won't talk. You won't interrupt me. You won't cast aside all I have to say with some silly remark meant to avoid the real issues."

"I–"

"Just nod. I don't want you to speak."

"What if my answer is no?"

He let out a heavy sigh and ran his hands over his face. "I must be losing my mind."

I folded my hands meekly in my lap and looked down. "I'm sorry. I promise to be quiet."

He rolled onto his side, grimaced, then lay on his back again. Using up every drop of will power within me, I remained quiet.

"I was so angry with you when you burst into that church. I wanted to shoot you on the spot." He paused, closing his eyes.

My stomach churned, and the longer he lay with his eyes closed, the more I hoped he'd fallen asleep. I leaned forward, in the process creaking the chair. His eyes opened again, and he turned his head to look at me.

"I suppose you only realize what you have, when you lose it." For several seconds, he held me with his gaze. None of the contempt, arrogance, or anger that usually consumed him shown in his cool blue eyes. "But, I've been given a second chance."

Still I said nothing, and I could not look at him. He'd left me to die in a church he ordered fired. I might not be able to help what I felt for him, but I certainly could keep my head and not allow myself to trust too easily.

"Have I been given a second chance?" He propped himself up on an elbow and faced me. "Laura?"

"Please, Colonel," I whispered. "Let's keep things the way they were."

As I looked at him, the expression of deep hurt that creased his forehead and slightly squinted his eyes stabbed at my heart. If only I could believe what my eyes saw. Slowly he moved back to a lying position and looked straight up, as if the roof of the tent were the most interesting thing he'd ever seen.

"Don't do that." I stood, planting my fists on my hips as I glared down at him. "Don't act as if I'm not even here."

"You haven't forgiven me." A note of sadness laced his voice, but he was by no means attempting to play the victim. It was almost matter-of-fact. My defensive demeanor disintegrated. I opened my mouth to respond, but he shook his head. "No need to say anything, Miss Hanson. I don't blame you."

"Forgive you? For leaving me to die in the church you set on fire? Colonel, that was easy. I admit, I didn't think you'd do it. But I forgave you even before I knew I wasn't going to die. What I will never forgive, ever, anyone, is the manipulation of my feelings." I stepped closer to his cot. "If you care even a little for me, you will never play with my feelings."

The ghost of a smile crept across his lips and spilled into his eyes. "Understood." He closed his eyes, then, as fatigue seemed to overtake him.

"I'll leave you to rest." I bent forward and planted a kiss on his forehead, then left.

* * *

We never spoke of it again. An understanding of sorts had been established between us. He reverted to calling me Miss Hanson, and I continued to call him Colonel. It was safer that way. At least for me. Even the thinnest boundaries were helpful in my struggle to keep my head about me.

Although I still went to see him every day, I kept my visits short. I could not take any chances and risk being pulled into his arms and kissed again. Being in that most-heavenly-of-places-on-earth left me completely disconcerted and unable to think straight. That was likely his goal. Each time he would reach to touch me, even if it seemed like an innocent gesture, I would pull away as if burned. Of course he noticed, and occasionally I would catch him looking at me with longing in his eyes. The expression would vanish as soon as our gazes met, and I always pretended not to notice.

Finally he'd had enough of convalescence, and told the doctor he was returning to his own tent.

"I've got work to do. I cannot spend another single day in this cot!" He stomped about the medical tent, pulling on a shirt, his green vest, and the red and green coat. Cursing, he glanced around. "Where are my boots?"

"In your own tent," I informed him. "But if you'll just be a little patient, I'll go get them for you."

"Thanks," he grunted, and turned to a small mirror to painstakingly pull his hair back into the wrapped ponytail they all had to use.

Afraid he might pull one of his stunts again, I returned with the boots, handed them to him and rushed back out in search of my "security blanket."

It took me a few minutes, but I found Wilkins by his horse, brushing the creature down and talking gently to it.

"Hey you," I called, and smiled up at him when he looked back.

"Laura, good morning." He returned my smile then turned back to his horse. "How's the invalid today?"

"The invalid," a crisp, rather irritatedvoice spoke behind us, "is just fine."

I jumped, and turned to find Tavington switching a glare between Wilkins and me.

"Sir, good to see you up and about." Wilkins gave a stiff salute and stood practically at attention.

"Is it?" Tavington flashed the Judas smile, then turned to me once again. "Why such a hurry to leave, Miss Hanson?"

"I figured you didn't need me anymore."

"Need you?" He snorted a laugh. "I never needed you, Miss Hanson. The doctor is quite capable of taking care of wounded soldiers without your help."

"Of course that's not what I meant, silly." I laughed, and punched him lightly in the arm, but it was all a farce. His words cut to the coreof my heart, and it was all I could do to keep the lightness in my voice. "Who would have fed you all that lovely gruel if I wasn't there to do it?"

His only answer was a grunt and a withering glare before he turned his full attention to Wilkins. "Go find Bordon. I need to see you both in my tent at once."

"Yes sir," Wilkins said.

Tavington stomped off to his tent without a backward glance. I stood in place, watching his retreat.

"Don't worry," Wilkins said. "He's just working hard to cover the fact that he was jealous."

"Jealous?" I turned to my big friend and frowned. "Jealous of what?"

Wilkins laughed. "Of you and me."

"Why ever would he be jealous of you and–"

As Wilkins' eyebrows began to arch, I suddenly understood.

"Oh! You mean, he thought–" I pointed to myself, then to Wilkins.

"He's been acting really strange, glaring at me even more than usual." Helet out a low chuckle. "I think he's got it bad, too."

I sighed and shook my head. "I don't think so. He just sees me as a challenge of sorts because I didn't–" I caught myself before finishing that sentence. 18th century women, especially single women, probably didn't talk of such things with men who were not family.

"I think you're wrong, but what do I know?" He shrugged. "But now, I must go find Bordon and go see what the colonel wants."

He dropped the horse brush onto the ground and jogged away.

* * *

I was in my tent, fighting with the stays I'd worn to please Tavington, when I heard Wilkins' usual throat-clearing outside.

"What is it, Wilkins?" I called.

"Colonel Tavington wishes to speak with you." His voice sounded a little shaky.

I sighed, leaving the stays in place, and pulled the dress back on. I stepped outside and scowled up at him. "What now?"

Wilkins looked down, clasping his hands nervously. "Just go in and see what he wants, all right? And please–behave yourself."

I grinned. "I'm touched by your concern." With a lightness I didn't really feel, I padded into Tavington's tent. "You wanted to see me?"

"Ah, yes. Miss Hanson. I want you to gather your things."

"G-gather my things?"

Heaving a heavy sigh, Tavington looked at me with a half bored, half irritated expression. "Must we go through this same ritual every time I tell you to do something?"

I pushed aside my own irritation and offered a mellow smile. "I'm sorry for being difficult, but why do you want me to gather my things?"

"Because, Miss Hanson, it has become painfully obvious you won't be able to lead me to the Ghost. There is, therefore, no reason for you to continue here." He turned away and picked up a map, spread it out on his desk, then began to study it.

"No reason–what am I supposed to do? Where am I supposed to go?" I didn't really expect him to answer those questions. I was mostly musing out loud.

Tavington looked up from his map, a sardonic lift to his eyebrows. "That, Miss Hanson, is really none of my concern. You're free to go."

I swallowed down a lump in my throat, and fought against the churning in my stomach. "Yes, sir."


	21. Chapter 21

Thanks for all your comments. I'm glad I have some of you even "crying" to think this story might be coming to an end. lol. I've had threats if I DARE to kill of Tavington. Hm. Anyway, here goes. Enjoy. :)

Chapter 21

I gathered my few belongings...my clothes, really, since that was all that belonged to me, and threw them into the leather satchel I'd been given months ago. I fought the tears, knowing they would do nothing to help me. There was no heart beating in that chest of his. He wasn't setting me free, he was sending me away. Where could I go? As far away from Colonel William Tavington as I could go. If only I could just go home!

For the first time in weeks, I thought of my old home. How was poor Uncle Dave? Did he miss me? What must he be thinking? If only I could send him a letter, or some message to let him know I was ok.

I walked to the entrance of my tent. With a wistful sigh, I turned back to look at what had been "home" for the past months. Although I would never have thought it in those early days, I would miss this. It had become my sanctuary, my refuge. And it kept me ever close to...William.

What a dreadful man! Was this punishment for shunning his advances? Or did he really care so little for me? For my own sake, I chose to believe the latter. If I could believe he did not care, then it might be easier to stop caring myself.

I stepped outside then strode toward Shadow. No use dragging this out. I saddled my horse, then without hesitation, swung up onto his back.

Wilkins ambled toward me, a sympathetic smile on his face. "It's been nice having you here, Laura Hanson. I'm sorry to see you go. But I guess it's for the best."

"For the best?"

"He's setting you free. Going against his desires and even his own common sense. He knows you're not in league with Martin. And he knows he can't hold you here any longer."

"I'd like to believe that's his reason." I smiled down at my one friend. "I'm going to miss you, you big lug. Thanks for all your support and friendship."

He reached up and took my hand, squeezing it gently. "Where will you go?"

I shrugged. "Where can I go? I have no home."

Just then I saw Tavington emerge from his tent. He glanced in my direction, and a deep scowl twisted his handsome face. His lips moved, and I could just imagine the curse he'd uttered. I squared my shoulders and raised my chin.

"Have a care, Wilkins. Make it through this war alive, will you?"

I turned Shadow away and was about to spur him into action.

"Miss Hanson, will you leave without even saying good-bye?" Tavington strolled up to us and grabbed hold of the reins.

I blinked against the burning in my eyes, willing the tears to evaporate. "Good-bye, Colonel." I offered what I'm sure was a poor excuse for a smile.

As he gazed up at my face, his expression softened. "You will see, my dear, that this is for the best. This camp is no place for a-for a lady such as yourself."

"A lady?" I barely stifled a laugh as my eyebrows arched.

Tavington reached for my hand, then pressed his lips to it. "A lady."

"Still trying to charm, up to the last minute?" I shook my head then kicked Shadow into a canter.

* * *

I had ridden out from camp only half an hour. Though I racked my brain for a plan, I had no idea where to go. I thought of the village, but what could I do there? The inhabitants most likely were not there, if they were wise.

I didn't have to think long, however, for the thundering of horses' hooves throbbed behind me. I pulled to the side of the dirt road to allow the riders to pass. The pounding came to an abrupt stop. I turned in the saddle to look behind me.

"Well, well, lads. What have we here?" A man, who looked to be somewhere in his late forties, wearing civilian clothing, rode up and steered his mount in front and facing me. "Who are you?"

"My name is Laura Hanson. Who are you?"

"She's been riding with Tavington and his buffoons," Another rider called out.

The man in front of me assessed me, his head cocked to the side. "Is that right, little lady?"

"Well, yes. I wasn't _with _them, though. I'm a patriot, and Colonel Tavington knew that."

A murmur rippled through the band of riders. Several voices rose above the din.

"Why did he keep you, then? And why has he suddenly let you go?"

"It's a trap. He sent her out to find The Ghost."

"No." I shook my head. "Or, if he did, I don't know anything about it."

"Don't you?" the man in front of me, who I assumed was the leader, asked.

Impatience flared within me. "Tell me where you want me to go, and I'll go. I don't have a place of my own. That's why Tavington set me free. Because he's a cruel, cold hearted–" I cut myself off, afraid something very unladylike might come out of my mouth if I went on. So on top of everything else, he'd been a bad influence on me. Such words had never been a part of my vocabulary, not even in my mind.

"Seems she's sincere in her hatred," another man called, laughing. The others joined him in his merriment.

"Lover's quarrel?" the leader asked.

"Of course not!" I raised my chin indignantly. "We were not, nor will ever be lovers. I can't stand him. He held me against my will."

The leader turned to the others. "What say you, lads? It seems we've run across Colonel Tavington's love. What would he do–or not do–to get her back? It's a real ace."

"I say it's a trap. She'll escape and tell him where–"

"Why don't you just put a bullet in my head, tie my body to my horse and send me back to Tavington's camp? That would be message enough, don't you think?"

The leader nodded as if considering my suggestion. "Might be a good idea." But before I could even feel frightened, he shook his head. "But that would be equaling ourselves to him." He looked back to his followers. "We're better men than that, aren't we?"

A ripple of "ayes" and grunts of approval ensued.

"So now what?" I asked.

"Where are you from, Miss Laura Hanson?" The leader's voice now held a note of friendliness in it.

"Look, my story is unbelievable, but I've lived in this area for 11 years. Almost 12, now. I lived with my uncle after my parents died, and before I was taken prisoner by Tavington."

"Who's your uncle?"

"His name was David Hanson. Owned a little farm just north of here."

"Hanson." The leader scrunched his face into a thoughtful frown. "Name sounds familiar, but not sure I know him."

"You wouldn't know him." I laughed, despite myself. "And it doesn't matter anyway. He's no longer there."

The leader sat for a moment, still assessing me. "I think I believe you. You're welcome to ride with us if you want. We'll give you protection until you can find your way home."

Relief overwhelmed me. The man in the lead had an honest face, even if his comrades didn't look so honorable.

"What's your name, if I may ask?" I held out my hand to shake since he had not yet offered me his.

"My, my, where are my manners?" He pulled his tri-corn hat from his head then extended his hand, taking mine. "Francis Morgan, at your service."

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Morgan."

He replaced his hat on his head, then turned his horse in the direction they'd been going. "Let's be on our way, then. Good to have you with us, Miss Hanson."

We rode on for some time, only stopping when we arrived at the edge of a thick forest. Carefully, we picked our way through the woods, until we arrived at a little clearing.

"We'll make camp here for the night. Tomorrow we'll find Martin." Morgan dismounted and stretched, then glanced about.

* * *

The night wind blew through me, reminding me winter was just around the corner. As I lay back on a pile of leaves I'd formed into a sort of bed, I looked up through the trees to the stars. I missed my little tent, and even the squeaky, not very comfortable cot that had been my bed for so many nights. Mostly, I realized I missed knowing that just one tent over held the man who'd stolen my heart.

I drifted off to sleep, feeling more miserable than ever. How could I have allowed these silly feelings to go so far? I had known from the start he would break my heart, but I thought I had protected it a little more than this.

I awoke with a start. Shouts, sounding much like orders, rang all about me. Something cold and hard jabbed into my side. It was still dark, and I could not see very well. What looked like torches bobbed about in the woods and around us.

"You. Get up slowly, hands in the air." An unfamiliar male voice snapped.

"What's going on?" I yawned and tried to get up without using my hands. As I stumbled back onto my pallet of leaves, rough hands grabbed me and yanked me to my feet.

"A woman?"

A torch was brought near to me and shone in my face.

"Yes, I'm a woman," I said, shading my eyes with my hand. "Can you please get that torch away from so close to my face?"

"Stand back, Sergeant," spoke another voice. A red-coated officer–not a dragoon–a regular, and from the lace and ruffles on his uniform, a lieutenant, stepped up to me. "Well this is an interesting turn of events." He chuckled then turned back to the sergeant. "Tie her hands, and take her along with the rest."

I groaned. What next?

* * *

The British soldiers escorted us back to Fort Carolina. A glimmer of hope rose within me. General Cornwallis knew who I was. Certainly he would release me, or maybe–my heart accelerated with hope–maybe he'd send me back to Tavington. 


	22. Chapter 22

As always, thanks for your wonderful reviews. :) I'm going to miss each one of you when this is over.

For those of you who have not already done so, if you would, go to my profile, and click on my homepage link. That'll take you to a blog I just recently started.My latest question on there is for y'all. I would really like an answer. Why, in your opinion, is Jason hot?

Oaky doaky...on to the chapter.

* * *

Chapter 22 

The sun had risen fully by the time we arrived at the fort. We were herded into a make-shift cage, made of thin logs nailed together. If not for the soldiers standing guard, it might have been easy for several men to tear down the whole contraption and escape. As the last of us was shoved through the door to our jail, Morgan turned to the Lieutenant.

"You're going to lock up the woman with the rest of us?"

"Why wouldn't we? She's no less a rebel because she's a woman."

Morgan chuckled. "Don't you know who this woman is? This is Tavington's girl. His love."

The Lieutenant frowned and gazed at me a second. "I'm surprised the colonel knows how to love."

I opened my mouth, about to correct the misconception, but Morgan shushed me with a look. With one last glance in my direction, the lieutenant hurried away.

As soon as he was gone, the men began to grumble.

"I told you she was a trap."

"They probably think they got them the Ghost."

"Shouldn't have trusted her."

"That'll be enough," Morgan snapped, then turned to me. "You might have a chance to get out of this. If they believe you're Tavington's woman, they probably won't hurt you. I doubt very much that we'll get out of here, but you might. And if you do, don't let our deaths be in vain. Don't let us be forgotten."

I swallowed hard and nodded. "If I get out, you can be sure I will never allow anyone to forget you."

About fifteen minutes later, the lieutenant returned. "Young lady, the lord general wishes to see you."

I glanced at Morgan and threw him a shaky smile. He nodded, urging me to go.

"Why does the lord general wish to see _me_?"

"I'm afraid you'll have to ask him." The lieutenant took hold of my arm and led me across the courtyard, up the long set of steps and into the building.

The memories of my first time here crowded back into my mind. How I wished the man holding on to my arm now was the same as at my first visit. Would I ever see him again?

The lieutenant ushered me into the large room that was General Cornwallis' "office." The general sat at his desk, looking very much the same as the first time I'd seen him, General O'Hara standing just behind him.

"Miss Hanson?" Cornwallis stood, pulling his bushy brows into a frown over his nose.

"Good morning, my lord," I said, and gave a slight bow of my head.

"You know this woman?" The lieutenant almost choked.

"Yes, I know her." Cornwallis let out a long breath. "Tavington brought her here some time ago. First claimed she was a spy, then changed his mind and said she was a lunatic." He walked slowly around to the front of his desk and looked down at me. "Why are you here, Miss Hanson? Why are you not with Colonel Tavington as I ordered?"

"Well, sir, he just up and told me to leave yesterday morning."

"He told you to leave?"

"How absurd." O'Hara shook his head. "So like Colonel Tavington."

"Were you captured by the band of colonials?" Cornwallis asked.

"N-no, actually. I was riding alone when they came across me. Mr. Morgan offered me protection until I found my way back home."

The lord general walked behind his desk once again. "I don't like this." Heturned to O'Hara. "Send for Tavington. I want him here immediately."

"Yes, sir." O'Hara bowed and hurried out of the room.

"Miss Hanson, I'm sorry if you've been treated roughly."

"Thank you, my lord, but I'm all right. No one treated me roughly."

* * *

I was shown to another room where I was then given something to eat and drink. A pitcher with water and a bowl were brought so I could wash up a little, and then I was left alone for some time. I paced the length of the room, wondering what would become of me. 

It was afternoon when I was called once again to see the lord general. As I entered the room, I saw Tavington already standing before him.

"What's this?" Tavington stared at me, his eyes wide with surprise.

"She was caught, along with that band of rebels you must have seen in the courtyard."

"Caught–with rebels–?" Tavington's eyes narrowed, and his nostrils flared.

"She claims you sent her away."

Tavington pulled in a breath through his nose, his glare still glued on me. "She ran away, sir."

My bottom jaw fell open. "I what?"

Tavington looked away from me, fixing his gaze on Cornwallis. "She waited until we were off our guard. She knows this country well, and I assume hid out in the woods until she could get away."

A million thoughts went through my mind, not the least of them the fantasy of beating the daylights out of that brute of a man. How I hated him!

"That is not the version of the story she told us, Colonel."

"It wouldn't be, would it?" Tavington returned his gaze to me, that smirk on his face that made me want to tear his hair out all over again. "You don't really think she would tell you the truth?"

"I'm shocked, Colonel, that you would be so incompetent, that you let a woman get away from you. No wonder you can't find this Ghost! You can't even keep hold of the prisoners in your care. And a woman, no less!"

"If I may say so, sir, Miss Hanson is no ordinary woman." Tavington tried to defend himself, but Cornwallis went on for several minutes in a belittling speech that might have brought a lesser man to tears.

I just stood there, my anger seeping from me with each word that came from the general's mouth. I felt every one as if it had been aimed at me. The effect was as strong as a punch in the gut.

It was no use. I couldn't even use anger as a weapon against Tavington. I wanted to say something that would make Cornwallis stop, but if I repeated my story, then it could go even worse for Tavington. I kept silent, looking down at the wooden floor at my feet, and tried to block out the general's tirade.

Suddenly he was silent. I chanced a glance up at the general, and saw him studying first me, then Tavington. The muscles in Cornwallis' jaw twitched. When he finally spoke, I jumped.

"Very well. Take her outside and put her with the others."

"Sir?" Tavington took a step forward, as if he'd been suddenly struck on the back.

"What is it, Colonel?" Cornwallis raised his eyebrows. "Did you not claim she was a spy? And do we not now have proof?"

"Yes, sir, I did claim she was a spy. But–"

"Then she will be hanged along with the other prisoners."

Tavington's face paled. "Sir, is that really necessary?"

"Colonel, she was found in the middle of the woods with a band of men we are certain are militia." Cornwallis stopped a moment, his brow again furrowed. "What is one more colonial to you? Why defend this one when you've killed so many others?"

"I–" Tavington's mouth remained open, but nothing more came out.

Cornwallis shook his head, his eyes thrusting daggers of disdain at the colonel. "General." He nodded to O'Hara.

Tavingtonmarched to the front of Cornwallis' desk, leaning forward with both hands on the top of it. "But, sir–"

"What is it, Colonel?" Cornwallis snapped with impatience. "Is she not a traitor to the crown? Is she not deserving of death? I think we'll send a strong message. Anyone who rebels against king and country--man, woman or child--will be severely punished. Is that not your theory anyway? No mercy. No compromise."

"But she isn't a spy."

Cornwallis frowned. "Your original conclusion was that she was indeed a spy, working in league with your Ghost."

"I-I was wrong, sir. She couldn't have been a spy."

O'Hara had opened the door and called for the lieutenant, who now strode in and took hold of my arm. As he led me away, I could not help gazing up at Tavington, but he would not look at me.

* * *

Penned up back outside, I waited, keeping my gaze aimed at the entrance to thebuilding. Maybe half an hour later, Tavington and the generals ambled down the long flight of stairs. Drums rolled, and lines of soldiers stood at attention. 

"Bring the first prisoner," Cornwallis called.

A soldier rushed to open the door to our pen, and pointed at me. "You. Let's go."

"M-me?" My finger trembled as I used it to point at myself.

"Let's go, lady." The soldier grabbed my arm and nearly dragged me out.

Fear twisted its icy fingers about my heart. A chill ran up my spine.

I searched the crowd until I found Tavington and locked my gaze with his. But what I saw in his eyes momentarily washed away all my fears. Pity, remorse, anger, frustration...anguish. I read the words, _I'm sorry,_ clearly in his eyes.

I was led up the steps of a gallows with places for three, but it seemedI was to be the only victim.My hands were tied behind my back, and the sentence proclaimed.

"For the crime of treason against the king, for spying against His Majesty's troops, and for giving aid to the rebels, Laura Hanson, you are hereby condemned to death by hanging."

I heard the words, yet I didn't. All I could do was gaze at the man with whom I'd fallen in love. If he did not realize it before, at least he would see the love I felt for him shining in my eyes...Up to the last minute.

Once again a noose was placed about my neck. Tavington stiffened. A black hood was pulled over my head.

"Please, no." I gasped. "I want to see."

"Very well."

The hood was removed and once again I found myself staring into Tavington's eyes. This time it _was_ the end. I had nothing left to lose.

_I love you_, I mouthed, and smiled as tears trickled down my cheeks.


	23. Chapter 23

Thanks, again, to those of you who reviewed. I'm forever grateful. :) And thanks tothose of you who took time to go to my blog and answer my question. I like the answers. ;) And I agree with each of you!

Disclaimer, as usual: I don't own The Patriot or any of its characters.

* * *

Chapter 23 

I watched for what I thought was my very last seconds in this world, as Tavington's eyes widened and his mouth fell open.

"Wait!" He ran forward, jumping up onto the platform of the gallows, then turned to face Cornwallis. "Sir, please. Don't do this. Hang me in her stead if you must hang someone, but don't kill her. She doesn't deserve it. I did let her go free. She didn't run away."

Cornwallis' expression was unreadable for a few seconds. Then, without a word, he jerked his head at the executioner. But as the man moved to release me, Tavington pushed him out of the way.

"Are you all right, Laura?" He asked as he removed the noose then cut through the ropes at my wrists.

"I am now." I smiled with trembling lips as I gazed up into his eyes. "Thank you." For a few blissful seconds, everything about me disappeared. No gallows, no soldiers...just Tavington–William and me. It was all I could do to not throw myself right into his arms.

"Let's get you inside." He took hold of my arm, his very touch sending an electric like jolt through my whole body.

As I took my first step, however, my legs buckled beneath me.

"Whoa, easy." Tavington swept me into his arms, then carried me down from the gallows. I clung to him, resting my head against his chest. Hearing his heart beat against my ear, I thought it the most beautiful music ever. How I wanted to stay right here, forever.

* * *

For the rest of the evening, I was treated like a queen. Or maybe more like a fragile Ming vase, as if I might shatter if not handled with the greatest of care. I was treated to a bath and even given new clothing to wear. 

The dress was beautiful, a lovely turquoise silk. Even in my own time period, I'd never seen, let alone worn a gown so splendid. When my hair had been done up in a fashionable way, I was led back to see Cornwallis. To my great disappointment, he was alone. I had not seen Tavington for some time, not since he'd carried me into the room where I'd been so pampered.

"Ah, Miss Hanson. You look...absolutely lovely." The older man smiled and indicated a table set with more food than two people could possibly eat. "Are you hungry?"

"Maybe a little, but I was well fed at lunch."

He nodded, then pulled out a chair for me to sit. When he, too, was seated, he looked up and smiled.

"I want you to know, Miss Hanson, that I am deeply sorry for what we put you through this afternoon. However, I had a feeling something like what happened, would."

"I don't follow."

Cornwallis gave a low chuckle. "I would have never thought it, but it seems the Colonel has developed-er-shall we say, feelings? For you."

"It might appear so." Heat infused my cheeks and I could not look at the general.

"It would seem those feelings are reciprocal."

"I'm afraid so, my lord."

"You havesuch feelings for the man who would let you hang rather than tell the truth?"

Finally I managed to raise my eyes. "I'm still here, aren't I? He didn't let me hang."

"Oh come, Miss Hanson. I wasn't really going to hang you. I wanted to get the truth from that man, and I'm just glad to see I read him right." He chuckled to himself once again and turned to a roast turkey in front of him. "Shall we eat?"

I played around with my food, not really all that hungry. Cornwallis spoke off and on, asked me a few questions, mostly about how I was treated while with the dragoons. Then he spoke of trivialities, the weather, how he missed England. I responded with one word answers, my mind far away. After some time, Cornwallis put down his fork and sighed.

"Miss Hanson, I can see your thoughts are elsewhere."

"I'm sorry, General."

"I have arranged to have you sent to Middleton Place for awhile. That dragoon camp is no place–"

"Please, sir." I stood, nearly knocking my chair over in the process. "I would much rather go back to the camp." I had to look away from the intent stare of the lord general if I was to go on. "Please. It's the only way I can keep watch over him."

"Good heavens, girl. You're actually in _love _with him!" He shook his head. "I believed a little–"

"We are not lovers. Colonel Tavington has treated me with the utmost of decency, and I am also a young woman of good upbringing. But yes, I love him. And I don't care if what he feels for me is love or not, I just want to be near him."

"You mean, you and he-you haven't-"

"No."

He threw his napkin on the table and stood. "Very well. This goes against all my better judgement, but all right. Tomorrow you will be taken back to the camp."

"Thank you!" Without thinking, I rushed around the table and threw my arms about him. "Thank you sir."

"Miss Hanson, please." He peeled my arms away, then stepped back, rather disconcerted with my outburst.

Just then, my gazewas drawn to the window. In the courtyard below, a horseman walked his mount toward the gate. I could only make out his silhouette, but I had no dout it was Tavington. So tall and straight in the saddle...so regal.

"He's still here?" I blurted.

"Who?"

"Tavington?"

"He is just leaving to go back to camp."

I did not hesitate. I rushed from the room, leaving poor General Cornwallis muttering to himself about young people and manners. As I ran outside and stood at the head of the stairs, I saw that Tavington had almost reached the gates.

"Wait!"

Tavington turned in his saddle to look back. I didn't wait. I grabbed the concrete banister and made my way as carefully as possible down the steps, afraid I might trip on the dress and topple in a most indelicate way to the bottom.

"What is it, Miss Hanson?" Tavington asked as I rushed toward him.

"Wait for me."

He slid to the ground and came toward me, a slight frown creasing his forehead. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm going back with you. As soon as I can get out of these clothes and into my own–"

I found myself tightly encircled by the arms of the man I loved. His mouth came down on mine, claiming it, and me, as his own. I seemed to melt to him, wishing this moment could go on forever.

"Why?" he whispered, pulling away just enough to look into my face. "Why would you want to go back?"

"To be with you. Why else?"

He pulled me to him again and settled the gentlest kiss on my lips. "Go change, then, so we can be off."

Smiling, I nodded. But just as I was arms length away from him, he grabbed my hand and whirled me back. "One last thing. You look..." He ran his gaze the length of my body. "You lookbeautiful in that dress." Then he smiled and let me go.

* * *

I thought my happiness could not be any fuller. But a storm cloud still hung on the horizon. I might have managed to win his heart, but had I managed to do enough to save his life? The Battle of Cowpens was still a few months away. A lot could happen in that time. I could not have come this far to fail. I could _not _lose the man of my dreams now that I'd found him. 


	24. Chapter 24

Hey y'all. Thanks again for the reviews.

We're getting close to the end. Just a note. I realize the battle scene in the movie where our darling Tavy is killed takes place in October. Since I am choosing, for the purpose of this story, to have this battle be the Battle of Cowpens, I am using the historical date for Cowpens, which was January rather than October. So a slight deviation from the movie, but taking my own dramatic license and mixing in some regular history (only the date, mind you.)

Oh yes...one more thing. I forgot to mentionwith the last chapter. Forgive my irresponsibility in not researching morphine. (Back in the chapter where Tavy was injured.) A very kind reader pointed out to me that they didn't use morphine yet during the Revolution. Ah...the hazzards of writing! A big mistake, and I humbly apologize.

Disclaimer: I don't own The Patriot or any of its characters.

* * *

Chapter 24 

The next few weeks passed like a dream. I discovered a whole new side of William, a side that, despite my love for him, I would never have expected. He was sweet, romantic, gentle. We spent many evenings gazing at the stars...days, walking hand in hand beside the stream. We talked of the past, of his life in England, and frustrations with his family, particularly his father. I noticed, however, that he avoided any talk of the future. As casually as I could, I asked him about it one day.

"William." I grabbed his hand as I picked my way through the woods on the way to the stream.

"Hm?"

"What will you do when this war is over?"

He was silent for several moments, his gaze glued to the ground. At first I thought maybe he had not heard me, or had been off somewhere else in his thoughts.

"William?"

"I heard you."

"Well?"

He stopped, pulling me in front of him, and smiled. "I don't know what I will do, exactly. I can't know if I will even survive the war."

"Of course, but certainly you have some plan in the event you do survive."

He nodded, then reached out and brushed back a lock of my hair that had blown into my face. "I haven't given it too much thought, to be honest. There's...a possibility of a small land grant, but if you want to know if you are a part of my plans for the future, that decision is not really mine to make. It is completely up to you."

"Up to me?"

He took my chin in his fingers, lifting my face as he gazed into my eyes. "Do you want to be a part of my future, Laura?"

"Do I? Are you nuts? Why do you think–"

William's arms snaked about my waist, pulling me to him. "You talk too much, woman." He grinned, then kissed me.

Whenever he did that, I could barely think straight. I pushed away, just enough to break the kiss.

"Don't do that when I'm trying to talk seriously with you." I punched him lightly in the chest while he laughed at me.

"Very well." The merriment drained from his face. He took me by the hand and led me to the fallen log beside the stream where, so many months ago, I had run from his early attempts to charm me. We sat, and he took both my hands in his.

"Laura, darling. For many years I ran from the entanglements of love. I had nothing to offer a wife. No money, a tarnished family name, thanks to my father. Before I could even think of settling down I had to build something, and I've done my best to advance myself through victories in this war." He looked down for a second. "I never allowed myself to feel anything for any woman. Until you came along. And I admit, I tried to shun you from my heart as well, but almost losing you--twice--showed me the truth." He sucked in a deep breath, as if what he had to say was the most difficult thing in the world. But bravely, he looked up and faced me, eye to eye. "I have fallen utterly, deeply, madly in love with you. I want nothing better than to marry you and spend the rest of my days with you."

"Then it's settled."

He shook his head, again looking away from me. "I can't. I cannot in good conscience ask you to marry me when my life could be taken any time I go into battle." He snorted a laugh. "Any time I leave this camp, with your Ghost still at large."

"Don't you think that should be my choice? Life is so uncertain. Anything could happen. Death is everywhere. Would you deprive me of what time we might spend together because of a 'what if?' That's not fair."

"Life isn't fair, now is it?" He ran the back of his hand down the line of my cheek. "I'll tell you what. I promise you, that if we both make it through the war alive, whatever the outcome, I will ask you to marry me."

"Well, we have a little under a year. I suppose that's a proper amount of time for a courtship, huh?"

His forehead wrinkled as he gave me a curious frown. "A little under a year? How can you possibly know that?"

I shrugged. "I just do. October, 1781. Yorktown. Cornwallis is going to surrender."

"So you can see into the future?" He grinned.

"No, I have read about the past." I waved the air in front of me impatiently. "But that's not important. What is important is the battle that will take place on January 17. You're going to lose, and it's going to be ugly." Doubt and confusion registered in the depths of his blue eyes. I could not bring myself to tell him the worse part. "Just please, listen to me. Stay away from Benjamin Martin. He's-"

"Oh, I see." He smiled and pulled me to him. "I'm truly touched by your concern, but I know what I'm doing."

"Yes, and I know you are capable, but--" It was no use. And frankly, I couldn't blame him. I probably sounded like a lunatic. I would just have to stick to my original plan and do what I could to interfere at the battle scene itself.

* * *

January blew in, cold and gusty. With each day that passed, my heart twisted in fear. I tried to make the most of my time with William, but he was often gone, or closeted in his tent with his captains. 

The 17th dawned with a cruel nip in the air. I woke with a chill, and had to fight the urge to dig deeper under the blanket. I had a mission, the most important of my entire life, and I could not snooze even a few more minutes. I stood and stretched out the kinks in my back, then hurried to dress. As I stepped into the frigid weather, I looked about for William. He stood in front of his tent, instructing his men, all of them ready and standing beside their mounts. As I approached, he turned and frowned.

"One moment," he said to the men, then took me by the arm and pulled me to the side. "What do you think you're doing?"

"I'm going with you."

"No. I won't allow it."

"You can't stop me." I grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket and pulled him down so his nose was almost touching mine. "You are going to die. If you are not careful, Benjamin Martin is going to kill you. I know this. It's in all the history books where I come from." I sucked in a breath as his face contorted into disbelief and maybe a little disappointment at my seeming lunacy. I had to talk fast. "You don't have to believe me. Just be careful. Stay away from Martin."

"You're not trying to suggest that ridiculous story of yours when we first met, that you come from the future, are you?"

"I'm not suggesting anything, except for you to stay away from the Martins. There are two of them now, and I'm sure they both would love to see you dead." I wrapped my arms about his neck and kissed him, long and hard. If my warnings and other actions this day were not successful, I would never feel this again. "Hold me, tighter," I whispered, and relished for maybe the last time, the feel of his arms about me.

"I'll come back to you, Laura. I promise," he whispered back.

"Don't make a promise you can't keep!"

"I'm not. I will come back, alive." He held me at arm's length and smiled. "I have a strong reason to want to live, now. You've given me that."

He pulled away from me and hurried to his horse. I watched as he mounted, then rode to the front of the line of dragoons. Without a backward glance, they took off.

I only waited long enough for them to be on their way, then I rushed to saddle my horse. There was no way I would sit back at the camp and wait for bad news.

I had spared Shadow for several days, giving him only so much exercise, mostly a light walk about, or a casual trot. In doing so, I hoped he would be more anxious than usual to run at top speed. Keeping a safe enough distance behind the dragoons that I would not be noticed, I followed them to the open field where the battle had already begun.

Two lines of men faced each other. The rebels pointed their rifles and a cloud of smoke rose along with the burst of musket fire. Just as the smoke settled, the line of British fired. Men, like sitting ducks, fell on both sides.

The dragoons waited, hidden in a wooded area behind the British lines. From my vantage point, I watched William look through his spyglass. As he put it away, I prayed he would just hang back, be careful. Of course, I should have known better. In almost the same movement that he put the spyglass away, he drew out his saber. He turned his head to the side. I could not hear, but from the expression on Wilkins' face, I figured what he said was not positive. Suddenly, he pointed his saber straight ahead and shouted.

"Charge!"

The dragoons flooded the field, like a sea of red and green. As soon as the rebel line saw them coming, they got off one more round of shots then turned and ran. Once again, I watched, my heart in my throat. This was history...my history. Never in my life would I have believed I would have the chance to actually watch a battle considered by historians to be one of the major turning points of the war. I had seen the re-enactments at the Cowpens National Battlefield, had cheered the American victory. But now, that victory was bittersweet. Yes, I wanted the victory. I wouldn't be truly American if I didn't. But at what cost? Maybe I was not as much a patriot as those men who now fought for my liberty, for I was not willing to make the same sacrifice. Or maybe I was. I would more gladly give my own life than face life without my William.

I watched as the rebels ran over a hill and disappeared. The regulars and dragoons were hot on their tails. As they went over the hill, I could see nothing but more smoke rising. I didn't think. I spurred Shadow into a gallop.

I made it to the top of the hill, then halted. Below me raged a much worse scene than the one I'd witnessed the day the dragoons had accompanied the supply wagons. This was all out battle. Hand to hand combat. I searched through the confusion for William. Relieved, I saw him unharmed and slicing his way through the throng of warriors.

The rebel line began to break. Militia as well as the Continental soldiers ran, several shouting retreat. Then I saw Martin. He ran, holding a Betsy Ross flag. The most beautiful of colonial American flags, in my opinion.

"Hold the line!" He yelled, as he ran up the steps of a ruined building and waved the flag. His courage amazed me, and I couldn't help but admire the man. All of them, actually. In a turn around that might defy belief, the colonials turned the tide. With shouts, they charged back up the hill and through the ruins, surprising the British. Bodies fell everywhere.

And then they found each other.

I could almost hear the click as Tavington and Martin locked gazes. Or maybe I should say glares. Pure hatred emanated from both men, and it scared me. William spurred his horse into a full gallop toward Martin. In turn, Martin tightened his grip on the flag pole and ran as if to meet William. I could no longer hesitate. I kicked Shadow into action, dodging swords and bodies. If I could cut William off, if I could just get his attention elsewhere...

Time felt suspended. I seemed to move at half speed. The air about me grew dreadfully cold, as if the temperature had suddenly dropped ten degrees or more. _Oh no! Not this!_ I pumped my heels into Shadow's side, urging him faster. I had to reach Tavington before...

I could barely breathe. The air seemed to be sucked right out of my lungs. Everything turned fuzzy, but not before I saw Martin just in front of me, kneeling on the ground and holding the flag like a pike. I turned my head to the side. William charged, saber pointed forward. His eyes grew wide as he saw me, and he raised his sword. I saw his mouth move, _Get out of the way, Laura!_ but I heard nothing.

Shadow leaped to avoid Martin. Still I gasped for breath, my strength ebbing out of me. I felt my body slip to the side, but I tried hard to hold on.

Blackness.

* * *

I opened my eyes, but for a few frightening seconds, I could not focus. My body ached all over, particularly my head. 

"She's coming to," an unfamiliar male voice spoke.

"Laura? Sweetheart, are you ok?"

I began to focus, and looked up into warm brown eyes filled with concern.

"Uncle Dave?"


	25. Chapter 25

Well...here it is. Final chapter and the epilogue. I've enjoyed this so much, and it's been nice getting to know you all a little. Don't know that I'll be writing another Fan Fic for awhile. This one consumed me way too much. But I will still be around, checking out what y'all are working on.

Thanks to all who reviewed chapter 24. It was hard not to just go ahead and post this one right away...but I decided to drag out the suspense just a tad. (big grin) So here goes. I hope y'all won't be too upset with me. But be sure to read all the way to the end. :)

Chapter 25

I tried to sit up, but Uncle Dave held me back. "Easy, now. Just rest. You'll be all right."

"What-what happened?" I could barely speak for my parched throat.

"You're in the hospital." Uncle Dave smiled then squeezed my hand. "You...had a little spill." The smile on his face twisted into a frown. "You really gave us a scare, young lady. When I got up yesterday and you weren't around, and Shadow wasn't in his stall..."

"I'm sorry." Tears filled my eyes. Not, this time, for my disobedience, but for what I had lost. What _had_ I lost, and what had happened? Had it all been a dream after all? A gloominess I could not shake settled over me.

"Sh. It's all right," Uncle Dave soothed. "Why don't you go on back to sleep for awhile?"

"Uh...that's not a good idea." A man in a white lab coat–apparently the doctor–stepped into my line of vision. "She was out cold. Probably has a concussion, so now that she's awake, we need to do our best to keep her awake for awhile."

Uncle Dave nodded, then, when the doctor left, turned back to me. "Tell me something, then. What were you doing all the way over at Cowpens?"

"Cowpens?"

"Yeah, we went out looking for you but you were no where to be found. I had just gotten back home, about to call the police when the folks from the National Park Services in charge of the Cowpens Battlefield called us."

"The people from Cowpens called you?" I felt like an idiot, repeating everything Uncle Dave said. Again I tried to sit up, but the room began to swim. I closed my eyes for a moment, then struggled to a sitting position.

Uncle Dave propped a couple of pillows behind me while he went on with his account. "You were found, unconscious, on a portion of the battlefield, dressed in some ragged 18th century clothes, no ID on you. Shadow stood beside you, like a guard dog or something. A buddy of mine who helps out with the re-enactments recognized you, and told them who to call. "

I gasped. "Where is the dress?"

Uncle Dave frowned. "You know, you probably fell off because of that dress. I cannot imagine what you were thinking."

"Uncle Dave." I grabbed him by both of his arms. "Where is the dress?"

"Oh, well it's over there with the rest of your things." He pointed to a small closet.

"Would you–would you get it for me, please?" My heart beat accelerated. Could it be I had not just dreamed it all?

Uncle Dave gave me a curious frown, then stood. "It looks like it's seen better days. But I suppose, if it's washed up a little..." He opened the closet and pulled out the dress. My dress. The one William had Wilkins and Bordon find.

"Oh, give it to me, please!" The tears streamed down my cheeks once again as I held out my hands. I grabbed it and held it up to my face, sniffing in the smells of the 18th century. As unpleasant as some of them might have been to my 21st century nose a year ago, now they were sweeter than French perfume. And I could smell him. It _had_ been real.

"Where did you get that rag anyway?" Uncle Dave chuckled and tried to take it from me.

"No. Leave it." I held on like a child clinging to a favorite teddy bear. But...the battle. What had happened? "Uncle Dave, what happened at the Battle of Cowpens? What happened to the British leader of the Green Dragoons?"

"Laura, why is that important now?"

"The doc said I had to stay awake, right?"

Uncle Dave nodded. "Yes, but–"

"So, Mr. History Buff. Talk to me about your favorite war. You know what happened."

He shrugged and began to recount everything, just as I had seen it. "As far as your dragoon leader, Lt. Colonel William Tavington, he was killed in battle."

"No," I cried, and slumped back against the pillows as tears formed anew in my eyes.

"Laura, what is the matter with you?"

"How? Was he shot? Did Benjamin Martin kill him?"

"I think you've got yourself too worked up." He stood and tried to pull the covers up to my neck. "You rest. I'm going to go see how long you have to stay here." I grabbed his arm before he could turn away from me.

"Please, Uncle Dave, just tell me how he died, and I won't bug you about it again."

Uncle Dave drew his lips together in the all-too-familiar stubborn line of the Hanson family. "Why does it matter? He'd be dead by now anyway."

"It just does! Please!"

He shrugged. "It's a mystery, actually. His body was never found. Some believe he played the coward and made a run for it. But knowing his past valor in battle, I would seriously doubt it. Probably had his head cut off or something, and was just unrecognizable."

Uncle Dave went on for some time, but I didn't hear another word he spoke.

"You've got to take me back there," I blurted.

"Take you back where?"

"To Cowpens. I have to find him."

"Laura, you've gone mad."

What could I do to make him understand? He would find my time travel story just as ridiculous as William had. But then an idea came to me.

"I know, I know. I sound crazy." I laughed, and raised my hand to my head. Laughing made it throb. "But there was a man. A-a re-enactor, maybe. He was dressed like Colonel Tavington."

"Laura, honey, that was yesterday. They held a re-enactment at the battlefield to mark the battle's anniversary. He was probably there early, but by now he's gone home."

A re-enactment? Poor William. He must have been terribly confused.

"I've got to find him." I threw aside the sheet and blanket and swung my feet over the side of the bed.

"Whoa there, little lady." Uncle Dave grabbed me by the shoulders, stopping my progress.

"I have to know if he's all right."

Uncle Dave looked deep into my eyes. "Will you calm yourself and take it easy if I do take you out there?"

"Yes! Please, take me there now."

He shook his head. "This is craziness."

"You have _no_ idea." I hurried to get dressed in some of my own clothes Uncle Dave had brought from home, then we hurried out, dodging the medical staff in case they tried to stop me.

Neither of us spoke as we drove down the road in Uncle Dave's beat up red pick-up truck. I could tell he thought I'd lost it, but I loved him even more for catering anyway to my seemingly silly whim.

My heart pounded my ribcage as we drove up to the entrance to the park. It all looked similar...yet different. As soon as we were parked, I opened the door.

Uncle Dave grabbed my wrist. "I don't know what happened to you, Laura, but I can see something has you very agitated. Go on, take care of whatever is bothering you. I can see you need to be alone right now. I'll wait in the truck, but if you're not back in an hour, I'm going to look for you."

"Thanks, Uncle Dave." I reached over and hugged him, then jumped out and raced to the field.

_Oh William, where are you?_ I ran to where I thought I had last seen him. "William?" I called out. But even as I did, I knew he wasn't there. Deep sadness like none I'd ever felt before threatened to overtake me. I slumped to the ground in tears. I'd lost him. Whatever had happened in the past, I'd lost him in any case.

Once my tears were spent, I stood and ambled toward the wooded area about the field. I could not face Uncle Dave just yet. I had to get my thoughts, not to mention my emotions, together first.

As I picked my way through the woods, carefully watching for hidden branches beneath the carpet of dried leaves, I thought I heard a horse snort. I looked up. Smoke rose from somewhere just ahead of me. My heart raced. I picked up the pace. And then I came to a clearing.

A man, dressed in dragoon uniform was huddled near a small fire.

"William?" My voice croaked though my lips.

The man stood and whirled around. Joy like nothing I'd ever felt before washed over me.

The man's bottom jaw dropped open. "Laura?"

In an instant I was in his arms. "Oh William. You're here! How–what happened? How did you–?"

"Have I ever told you, woman, you talk too much?" He smiled down into my eyes, then covered my mouth with his.

* * *

Epilogue 

Close to a year has passed since my little adventure. It's been an interesting year with William. He is like a child in many ways, learning for the first time about modern life--things I used to take for granted. What fun it was to teach him to drive a stick shift!

I, myself, see things in a whole new light. Like...discovering everything for the first time all over again through his reactions. He's a different person. A little quiet at times, subdued, and I can't help but feel sorry for him. Not too much, just a little, for I can still see the proud, uncompromising man with whom I originally fell in love. Then again, I wouldn't want him to change too much.

He doesn't seem to regret spurring his horse after me that day on the battlefield, right into the "time cloud", and I don't think he feels he lost anything. He no longer had any real family attachments. But _he_ is lost, in a world to which he's slowly adjusting. He devours books, especially British history, with a hunger for knowledge I've never seen before. He's also got this odd fascination for the state of Ohio. He won't explain it to me, but I suppose I'll have to take him there eventually.

We are planning a winter wedding. January 17. A colonial style celebration. I think that will make him a little more at home. And of course, I'll do anything I can to help him adjust. What can I say? I love him.

The End


End file.
